The hectors, or, The false challenge a comedy written in the year MDCLV, the scene, London.

SCENE III.

Enter Love-wit.

L••.

It was my better genius surely, put me on this device, it could not else have fallen out so luckily; for me thinks I have observed a more th••n ordinary kindnesse between my Cozen and this Gentleman, since their coming home; and now I call to mind, this was the man whom shee did so commend today, and defend against us all; I needs must say, that I was much mistaken in him, for surely, he is one of far more worth then I did take him for to be.

Well, if she have any such desires, would heaven enflame them to the height, and so finish my imperfect hopes, which already doe begin to take some shape and forme. —

But here I think she is. —

Enter Crisis, and Know-well.

Lov.

What, are you come, Affection?

Cris.

I, is it not time?

Lov.

And how go now affaires at Hide-Park? what new beauties are there come to Town, since I have been in the Country? which is the chiefest planet that doth now shine in that round-moving orbe of Coaches?

Cris.

You should have asked, what was the newest fashion, who had the finest gowne, or the handsomest dresse; for these are things wee women onely mark: This Gent. I believe, would better have resolved you that question.—

What say you Mr. Know▪ well, which was the handsomest Lady that you saw there?

Know.

That, Lady, would be a very difficult business to determine, I should rather chuse me a Mrs. by her picture, or as the Italians, they say, do, through a window, and thinke my self subject unto lesse deceit.

Lov.

Why, I pray Sir?

Know.

When one sees, Lady, nothing but a face, and that dress'd up unto the height, I might as well Judge of a book by the fine Greeke title; the Vardingales had not so much imposture; give me a place where I may see and Judge of all dimensions.

I remember I mark'd a Lady there whom I have seene somewhere before, she is one (Ladies) that hath the strangest antick shape as ever nature in her greatest whimsey was Author of.

But as sometimes you shall see a pretty neat device carved on a knotty crab-tree stick, her face, I must confesse, is not much amisse, for as she order'd the business with her advantageous sitting in the Coach, she was the only shining planet, as you say, that drew all eyes upon her.

Lov.

No Sir, she was but a false deluding Comet.

Know.

I, so shee might, for I am sure she has a huge excrescence at her back.

Cris.

Well, but Mr. Know-well, what say you to the Western Lady that I shewed you?

Know.

She doth wel, I must confesse, at a distance, but when wee came neerer, me thought she was but ordinary.

Cris.

There was one I told you of, that I said was newly come to the town, is not she handsome?

Know.

Handsome?

Cris.

I will assure you there are some whose opinions are accounted very authentick in these kind of things, that say so.

Know.

Surely then I believe they have a mind to try how much their judgments can impose upon the world.

Cris.

There was a lass in the Coach with the green Livery that you look'd much upon.

Know.

She had indeed a good complexion, and I believe right; besides, a pretty innocent look, as if she meant no hurt, and pitty it were to do her any. And although shee have some features which, ac∣cording to the exact rule are not esteemed handsome, yet cer∣tainly, there is somewhat in her face, will force one to believe them pleasing.

Cris.

Do you remember Sir, she in the cloth of Silver wast-coate, that I bad you take notice of.

Know.

Yes, that I do, and truly shee will serve well enough, only me thinks she has a kind of sullen look, as if she would be angry, if the artillery of her eyes should fail.

Lov.

There was, when I was last in the town, a City Lady, that was much talked of.

Cris.

O! I wonder how I have forgot her all this while, that was shee we overtook, you ey'd her much.

Know.

I did indeed, because I have heard so much of her; shee has a most compleat and perfect beauty, nor can the greatest critick in this kind find any fault with the least proportion of her face, but yet me thought I was no more taken with it, then I should with some curi∣ous well drawn picture.

Lov.

That Sir, is somewhat strange. —

Know.

In my mind, not at all, Lady; for it is not alwaies that we are Governed by what the generall fancy of the world calls beauty; for each soul hath some predominant thoughts, which when they light on ought that strike on them, there is nothing doth m••••e enflame.

And as in musick, that pleaseth not most which with the greatest art and skill is composed; but those aires that do resemb•••• and stir up some dormant passion to which the mind is addicted. So I believe, never yet was any one much taken with a face, in which he did not espie ought that did rouse and put in motion some affection that hath ruled in

his thoughts, besides those features, which only for the sake of common opinion we are forced to say doth please.

Lov.

Yonder comes Mr. La-gull, I think.

Know.

I will stand aside here a little, then.

Exit Know-well.

Enter La-gull and Girle.

Lov.

Mr. La-gull, your servant.

What? are you come but now?

La.

No, Madam, We staid somewhat the longer by reason of a small accident that hapned.

Lov.

What was that, I pray?

Cris.

I hope it is not another story of a busk.

Aside.

La.

This night, Madam, there was a horse-race, on which I had laid a trifling bett of some forty pounds. Wherefore I being desirous for to see it, (first, craving pardon of this Lady, for my so rudely lea∣ving her) got upon my Barbary Mare that my Lacquey had there. And (Madam) there happened to be there a French man, one who (as I have heard) is a Monsieur of much honour and repute in his Country: He (Madam) observing me, said I did ride well, and ma∣nage my horse handsomely for an English man; which I over hearing, told him, that I was transcendently engaged to him for his good opi∣nion of me; but yet I could not in honour but take notice of the affront he put upon my Country in those words; wherefore (Madam) I told him, that if he pleased, he should find an English man could rule a sword as well as a Horse; and upon that (Madam) we drew.

Cris.

There was no hurt done I hope? was there?

La.

Not much, Madam.

Yet I must confesse, I made a thrust at him, which he bearing down run quite through his Porte-canon; And he with a hanger that he had, stroke at my head, which I could not so fully ward, but that he cut off the button of my Cap; and then (Madam) we were parted by the company▪ but he bid me look to hear further from him, and went his way, and I came back to this same Lady.

Cris.

Truly Sir, your Country cannot but look upon you as one of her chiefest Champions.

La.

O God Madam! the honour of my Country is far dearer to mee, then my life. I should be unworthy to live in it, should I have suffer'd it to receive such an affront.

Enter servant with a letter.

Ser.

Sir, here is one hath brought you a letter.

La.

For mee? I'le warrant 'tis the Gent. I talked of, hath sent me a challenge. —For I have taken order to have one sent, the more to countenance this same storie. —

Aside.

Lov.

A challenge say you, is it? pray let me see, I never yet did see the fashion of a challenge.

Shee takes it.

La.

Nay Madam. —

Lov.

Come, I will read it.

La.

If you wil, I cannot tell how to helpe it, for I was not born to contradict faire Ladies wills.—

Lo.

Stay, What is this?—

Sir, I (according as you desired me) have found out the Gentleman you wot of, whom I do really find to have much interest in your ad∣versary.

La.

Hold Lady, for this is not a challenge, but a letter of some pri∣vate businesse. —

Lov.

'Tis no matter, now I have begun, I will make an end of it.

La.

Excuse me, Madam.

Cris.

Why Mr. La-gull, I thought you had not been born to con∣tradict fair Ladies wills. —

La.

Nay, Madam, I must have it.

He offers to take it from her.

Lov.

Here — Shee flings it t•• Crisis. La-gull offers to take it from her with some rudenesse, shee striving to keep it, in the midst of the bustle Enter Know-wel.

Kn.

Why, you uncivill fellow, what is the matter?

He makes him let her goe.

La.

What, is he here too? how unluckily it falls out? Mis-for∣tune on Mis fortune!

Cris.

Here Mr. Know-well, read this.

Know.

Read this!—

He reads the beginning.

But I could by no means prevaile with him to be a means of taking your quarrel up, except you lend him the summe I told you of, which (you to day referring the matter unto mee) I hav•• promi∣sed him; and have procured one that will lay downe the money. Wee shall be all at night at the old place, where I desire you would not faile, but meete, that wee may make an end of the busi∣nesse.

Your humble servant Rich. Hadland.

Lov.

No surely, this is no challenge.

La.

What shall I do? I am disgraced for ever. My honour, my honour and reputation is lost eternally.

Cris.

Not a whit Sir; for to tell you plainly, there is none here, that I believe, did ever think you had any to lose.

La.

I am abused, some body has abused me with this letter.

Know.

You are abused indeed Sir, and will be more, if you do not take heed.

La.

Come Mr. La-gull, you are amongst none but your friends, if you will be ruled by us, I'le warrant you you shall doe well enough yet.

Cris.

You had as good take some counsel now, lest you repent when it is too late.

Kow.

The truth of it is, Sir, you are hapned into the hands of some su••••le youths, who knowing you to bee a man of a faire fortune, ne∣ver any Merchants Cash-keeper, or Lasse of twenty thousand pounds, had more designes on them, then they have on you

La.

What would you have me do?

Cris.

Doe? Why, e'ne as those of your temper use to do; leave this town, marry, and seat your selfe in the country.

Lo.

Come not up hither, except it be in an Easter Terme, or so, to buy your wife a new gown.

Cris.

Trouble your selfe no more about these nice and subtle rules of honour, or in getting a fine affected straine of complement; but if you will needs bu••••e your brain, you may learn the strange dialect of Hawks and Hounds.

Lov.

Some fine speeches though, you may keep in Lavender, to ex∣cuse your Christmas cheer, or to use in distributing a Feasant of your own taking.

Cris.

You need not then be so inquisitive after the modes and fashi∣ons; a fine gaudy suit or two to wear on Market dayes, or in the assize-week, will be well enough.

Know.

In stead of roaring night and day in Taverns, or venturing with a company of Cheats, at some Ordinary, the price of a Farme, keepe your drinking matches of tubs of Ale, and your bowling dayes, where your Crown rubbers will not do you much prejudice.

Lov.

And when you have a mind to play the good husband, a nursery, or a hop-ground may sind you good imployment.

Cris.

You may learne to inoculate, and if any Ladies come to visit you, a dish of fruit, with a story how you your self did graft it, may serve for all your costly treatments here.

Know.

Upon a rainy day, or when you have nought else to do, you may read Sir Walter Raleigh, Lord Bacons Natural History, the Holy Warre, and Browns Vulgar Errors. You may find too some stories in the English Eusebius, and the Book of Martyrs, to hold dis∣course with the Parson on a Sunday dinner.

Lov.

Sometimes to your wife you may read a piece of Shak-speare, Suckling, and Ben. Iohnson too, if you can understand him.

Know.

You may read the Scout, and Weekly Intelligence, and talk politickly after it. And if you get some smattering in the Mathema∣ticks, it would not be amisse, the Art of dyalling, or to set your clock by the quadrant, and Geography enough to measure your own land.

Lov.

Thus you may employ your self, and do the businesse that you came for into the world, uphold your name and family, make your son somewhat at the better Gentleman, in making his pedigree the lon∣ger by one.

La.

I am highly ingaged to you for this advice, and hence forward I shall study to observe it.

Enter Constable, and others with him.

Con.

Is not Mr. Know-well here?

Knw.

My name is Know-well, friend, what would you have with me?

Con.

O, is it so? Then pray come along with me.

Know.

With you? for what?

Con.

Come away, I say, without dispute, for I am a man of Au∣thority.

Know.

Cry mercy, for I might very well have mistaken you. But I pray, what is the matter?

Con.

The matter? as if you did not know. —

Know.

Not I, nor can I guesse.

Con.

You do not know I'le warrant, one Mr. — Wel bred, I think they call him.

Lov.

Why, I pray, Mr. Constable, what of him?

Know.

I have some little acquaintance with him.

Lov.

But what of him?

(Cris.

Why, what doth it concern you, I wonder, that you are so hasty to know?)

Con.

Nothing, but that this Gentleman hath kill'd him a little, he is only dead.

Lov.

Dead!

Con.

I, as a door naile, I'le warrant you by this time; I am sure I left him gasping almost two hours ago.

Lov.

Dead!

Con.

I, as a Herring, I dare lay my life, by this time.

Cris.

How doe you Cozen? are you not wel?

Lov.

A kind of a fainting fit that uses to take me sometimes, since I had my Ague in the Country, it will presently over again.

Know.

What can be the meaning of this? I have not seene him to day.

Con.

Come, come, I am not to dispute that with you. — You did not send him a challenge neither? did you?

Know.

I, a challenge! certainly you are mistaken.

Con.

Yes I'le warrant, did not these eyes see it taken out of his pocket? but if I am mistaken, then pray come along with me without more adoe.

Lov.

What strange unlucky accident hath hapned, that hath thus blasted all my hopes that did begin to bud, and made that occasion of my endlesse grief, which I had thought had been the way to what I had most desired.

Aside.

Cris.

This is a sad story; wee had best to follow and inquire further into it. — Stay, Now I think of it, I will go to his l••dging; Prethy Mr. La-gull, goe bid your man get a Coach.

Exeunt.