Playes written by the thrice noble, illustrious and excellent princess, the Lady Marchioness of Newcastle.

Scene 35.

Enter the five Couples, and all the Bridal Guests: The Bride∣grooms and the Brides dance, and the while the Bridal Torches are held in their hands: Then a `Poet speaks thus to them.

Speaker.

What Lines of Light doe from those Torches spin, Which winds about those Ladies whiter skin? But from their Eyes more Splend'rous Beams doe run, As bright as those that issue from the Sun. Wherein the lesser Lights wax dull and dim, Or like as Minnes in an Ocean swim.

Enter Mall Mean-bred.

MAll Mean-bred.

By your good leave Gentlefolks,

The Lord Maquiss writ this Scene

I am come here to complain of this Hog-grubber Sir Golden Riches, who did tempt me with Gold till he had his desire, you know all what it is, and I like an honest woman, as it were, kept my word, and performed truly as any woman could do: Speak, canst thou detect me either in word or deed? and like a false and covetous wretch as thou art, performed nothing with me as thou shouldst have done, I am sure of that: Is't not a truth? speak coverous wretch, speak.

Sir Gold. Rich.

Why, what did I promise you?

Mall Mean-bred.

Why thou didst promise me an hundred pounds in gold, shew'd it me, and then took it away again; nay further, thou saidst I should be a Lady, and have a great parimanus Coach gilt, with neighing Horses, and a Coachman, with a Postilion to ride afore: Nay, nay, I remember well e∣nough what you said, you talkd of Gesemond, Pomatum, and Roman Gunpow∣der for my hair, and fine gowns and stockings, and sine lac'd silk garters, and roses shining like Stars, God bless us!

Sir Gold. Rich.

Did I, did I?

Mall Mean-bred.

Yes, that you did, you know what you did, and how you did, and so do I; and Gentlefolks as I am a true woman, which he knows I am, I never had more than this white fustion wastecoat, and three pence to buy me three penyworth of pins, for he would allow me no incle to tie it withall, and this old stamel peticoat, that was his great Grand∣mothers in Eighty eight, I am no two-legg'd creature else.

Sir Gold. Rich.

But I bought you velvet to gard it withall.

Mall Mean-bred.

Yes, that's true, an old black velvet Jerkin without sleeves, that had belonged to one of Queen Elizabeth her learned Counsel in the Law of blessed Memory, primo of Her Reign, and you bought it of an old Broker at Nottingham; and as I am a true Christian woman, if our Neigh∣bour Botcher could almost few it on, it was so mortified.

Sir Gold. Rich.

I bought you shooes, and ribbons to tie them withall.

She shewes her shooes.

Mall Mean-bred.

Look Gentlefolks, a pair of wet-leather shooes, that have given me a Cold, and two leather points that he calls ribbons, like a lying false man.

Sir Gold Rich.

I am sure I bought you stockins and garters.

Mall Mean-bred.

Old Doncaster-stockins, that I was sain to wash my self with a little borrow'd sope, and they were footed with yellow fustion too, and the garters he talks of were lists of cloth, which a Taylor gave me for my New-years-gift, and I cannot chuse but grieve to see his unkindnesse; I gave you satisfaction often, but you never satisfied me, I will take it upon my death.

Sir Gold. Rich.

Go Gill Flirt, pack away hence.

Mall Mean-bred.

Nay that puts me in mind of the Pedlars pack you pro∣mis'd me, and I never had so much bought as that I might whissle for them; but I will follow thee to Hell, but I will have something more out of thee than I have had, or else I will make all the Town ring of me.

Enter two Beadles.

Sir Gold. Rich.

Here Beadles, take her to the Correction-house, Bridewell, and let her be punished.

Mall Mean-bred.

Is it so, thou miscreant? well, I thought to be thy Bride, and not Bridewel, I never thought it in my conscience.

Here ends my Lords writing.

Lord Title,

Pray stay.

Enter Thom. Purveyor.

The Lord Title whispers to Thom. Purveyor, then turns to Mall Mean-bred.

Lord Title.

Mall, although you deceived me, and broke your promise, you I will not only save you from the punishment you were to suffer at the Cor∣rection-house, but I will give thee a Husband here, lusty Thom. Purveyor, to whom, for taking thee to Wife, I will give him a lease of fifty pounds a year. Here Tom, take her and go marry her.

Mall Mean-bred.

Heaven bless your Honour.

Tom.

Come Mall, let us go Wed, for fifty pounds a year is better than thy Maiden-head.

Exeunt.