Five new playes, (viz.) The madd couple well matcht. Novella. Court begger. City witt. Damoiselle. By Richard Brome.

SCENE I.

Enter Philomel, Court-wit, Swayn-wit, Cit-wit.

Phi.

HEre in this gallery Gentlemen you may▪ at your pleasure, Untill my Lady comes, walk or sit.

Cou.

Or lie down if you please.

Ph.

If you so, wrong not my Ladies Couch with your Spurres I pray▪ take heed you leave not a Rowell there.

Sw.

If one should, your Lady has no Lord to call her honour to question, whose Knight-hood it belong'd unto.

Phil.

You have a good countrey wit sir.

Sw.

My name is Swayne-wit; and for all you twit me with the Countrey, I am a Gentleman tho'.

Ph.

I honour you the more sir, for I am a Countrey Maide my selfe.

Sw.

Thou art a baggage, and a bold one, I am deceiv'd else. I would be further acquainted with you tho'.

Kisse long.

Have you done now? You will have time enough for Further and better acquaintance.

Thou art a Jackanapes of the basest tricks that ever I saw, for a halfe-penny. Shee's your choyce, is shee? Could not you let be tho'? I ha' bin acquainted with thee but two dayes, and forgi'me for swearing, I ha' found thee beating ripe a skore o' times at least. Take heede I be∣gin not now, and hand sell your Ladies house, that is so much talkt on, and your Gentlewomans presence here with a fist about your eares.

Cou.

Not for a thousand pound.

Sw.

That's a great deale of money. I could find i'my heart to do't tho'.

Cou.

Slife we are all undone then.

Sw.

He sets my teeth on edge to looke upon him: He lookes so like a wilding crab, good neither for drink nor sauce.

Ph.

Why would you presse him then?

Sw.

Thou hast a verjuice wit.

Ph.

For my poore sake forbeare sir.

Sw.

Let him stand further then, and looke o' to•• side.

Cit.

Well sir, this is no cause nor place to fight in, when—

Sw.

What sayes he?

Ph.

Nothing, you heare he whistles tother way.

Sw.

Tother way, what backwards?

Ph.

What new guest ha' you brought here Mr. Court∣wit, for my Lady to laugh at?

Cou.

One for that purpose Phil, you ha' spoke the man, But what company has my Patronesse, that shee is yet busy.

Sw.

I that! If shee be long busy I will not stay, and shee were ten great Ladies, or one as big as twenty, for all shee is your Patronesse, must we wait out of our wits, because Chalivere ran mad for her?

Ph.

Ha' you heard o' that sir?

Sw.

My Cozen Court-wit's question was who's with her?

Ph.

O sweet Mr. Court-wit, when will you bring the fine civill Gentleman, that maintaines himselfe so gal∣lantly by picture drawing?

Sw.

Here's a new businesse! Fare yee well, pray tell your Lady I came not from Pensans to grow here.

Ph.

Nay sweet sir stay, there is sir with my Lady none but the grave and witty talking Knight. Some call him the metrapolitane wit of Court; he that loves Ladyes so∣ciety so much, and yet has vow'd virginity.

Cou.

As much as in man lies Phil; Hee is a perpetuall vowd batchellor indeed, and as constant to his vow as to his fashion in apparrell, which is ever the same, sir Raphael Winter-plum.

Cit.

That old witherd piece. I know him.

Sw.

Thou wilt beare up again.

Cit.

He has lick'd up a living with his tongue; makes all great tables his own; and eats for his talke: He may be conversant with women: for (they say) he guelt him∣selfe

beyond Sea for spight one did him; and now preaches chastity to Ladies, and love to their husbands. Hee's a Lay-gospeller among the married sort, and an especiall pedant to the youth o' Court.

Cou.

Fy, thou speakst too much.

Sw.

There's another humor I could beat thee for with all my heart, thou wilt speake outragiously of all men behinde their backs, and darst not answer Ba—to the face of a sheep, O I could pommell thee.

Cit.

This is not yet a cause to fight for, when—

Ph.

But will not that fine Gentleman Mr. Dainty come, Mr. Court-wit?

Cou.

I expect him presently.

Ph.

I'le see if their conference be ended, or breake it if I can, and hasten my Lady to you.

Exit.

Sw.

This wench has a dainty wit.

Cou.

Shee may, living with the prime Lady-wit in towne.

Sw.

But what Dainty is that shee talkes on so affecti∣onately?

Cou.

Troth a Gentleman that lives at a good rate; very civill in conversation, keepes good company; yet none of his acquaintance that I am acquainted with knowes his beginning, or his present meanes.

Sw.

A Gentleman borne.

Cou.

I know no more but by his port, and fashion, you saw him with me last night.

Sw.

Forgi' me for swearing, Ist he?

Cou.

He was at the Play with us too, doe you not re∣member that?

Sw.

Yes, that I was at the Play, by sure token and a sad one.

Cit.

I'le shew you somewhat of him. A Gentleman borne did you aske?

Sw.

Now he beares up againe.

Cit.

Hee cannot be a Gentleman by birth or place. A fine-handed, and a fine headed fellow he is; and pre∣tends great skill and practice too in Picture-drawing, Watch-making, and such like finger-workes; which he sayes he uses as a Gentlemans exercise, not as a trade to live upon; when either he does live on't; or else hee has some more secret way, as perhaps pimping or pursing for ought I know.

Sw.

There he is again! Art thou bound in conscience to wrong all men in their absence, till I beate thee into better manners?

Cou.

Hold, hold, I prithee hold.

Cit.

Yet still the cause is insufficient, when—

Cou.

Here comes the Gentleman.

Enter Dainty.

Cit.

Is hee come? Noble Mr. Dainty—The wel∣comst in the World. I protest I suffer'd by your absence.

Dai.

You do me too much honour Mr. Cit-wit.

Cit.

Oh sir, your humble servant.

Sw.

Ha, ha. Forgi' me for swearing, what a Spaniell's this?

Dai.

Gentlemen you are well found, I was a little stayd by the way upon receipt of monies. Ha' you seene the Lady yet?

Cou.

Shee's yet a little busy. We shall all instantly take the opportunity together.

Dai.

But Gentlemen; you that have better knowledge of this Lady informe if you please, why are we summond hither?

Cou.

Thou speakst as if thou hadst guilt upon thee; fear nothing man.

Sw.

I that's the thing that I would understand too. And why me of any man? They say indeed shee is a hu∣morous Lady, and loves to busy her selfe. But what are we to her? are there not greater men, and Lords enough

for her to foole away the time with, but we must danc•• attendance on her humors?

Cit.

I protest Mr. Swayn-wit, I admire your inge∣nuity.

Sw.

You will be medling still.

Cit.

Tis to your question sir, which I will answer.

Sw.

I there's another of your cockscombly tricks, to answer any question, that's ask'd another man, out with tho'.

Cit.

This Lady sir, this humorous wity Lady is a wit∣sponge, that suckes up wit from some, and holds as her own, untill shee squeeze it out on others. Shee will make use of ours, or any courser wits; and search 'em out to sift 'em. Shee will collect from market-folkes; and hold conferences with the poore Trades people that cry their wares about the streets, Shee will rake wit out of a dunghill Ragwoman.

Swa.

So there he is againe! darest thou abuse a noble Lady, in her owne house too? I dare not now but beat thee.

Cou.

Forbeare good cosen.

Cit.

Still, still, the cause is naught, when—

Dai.

Ods so the Ladies comming I think.

Enter Philomel.

Phil.

Gentlemen, my Lady cannot yet be rid of the tedious talking Knight. But shee will cast him presently. He is now following her into this roome, pray passe into the next; my Ladies Musick roome. There you shall find a collation of good Tobacco and Sack and one to attend you, you know the fashions of the House Mr. Court∣wit.

Cou.

Come away Gentlemen.

Exit Gentlemen.

Phil.

I could even love and looke upon that sweete Mr. Dainty a whole houre methinks.

Enter Strange-love, and Sir Raphael.

Stra.

Goe your wayes down Mayd, and if any aske for Sir Raphael here, say that I hope hee will ha' done anon.

Ra.

You would be rid of me: but pardon me Madam, I must hold your glasse to you.

Stra.

That's a poore Chamber-mayds office; and ill becomes your gravity Sir Raphael.

Ra.

I'le open then the booke to you of your errors.

Str.

Now you speake scholler-like, and your selfe: But have we spent all this while in by, and idle talke, and have that volume to be open'd yet? Pray read mee for the first Lesson for this Mornings Exercise, and my Edification, the last Chapter of my book of errors as you call it.

Ra.

You are a mocker of instruction, and good counsell.

Str.

Begins it so? whom is that spoken to?

Ra.

I speak to onely you; to conjure (if I can) that spirit of scorne out of you; which you have taken in, and long affected for a humor, your singular own humor, till it is grown so familiar, so inherent in you, that you have wonne the title of the humorous Lady by't; and drawn a scorne upon your selfe.

Stra.

Why then all's paid, and wellcome good Sir Raphael.

Ra.

I am not gone so; nor is all so payd: For there's a greater reckoning yet of Raylings, Reviling, Curses by the many that Y'have scornd and slighted, shot at you in hot vollies.

Str.

They hit me not. I am sure I do not feele 'em.

R.

You may in time be sensible of their suffrings, Whom you have violently, and willfully abus'd With scorne and pride; if you call to mind The cause, bred meerly out of humour; cause you would have it so.

Str.

You come too neare mee sir, cause I would have it so?

Ra.

Can it be otherwise? Has it not ever bin Your practise, since your time of widow-hood To catch all mens affections? Tis indeed An honour to a Lady to have many suitors; But to lay bait for 'em only to delude 'em— Is impiously dishonorable.

Str.

Have I done so?

Ra.

Yes, and have gloried in it for your humour To lead men into brakes with foolish fire.

Str.

If they will follow it, I cannot helpe it.

Ra.

You might though have prevented the mishaps Of many, by a faire and free resistance In the beginnings of their suits of Courtships, And not to set your selfe at gaze to draw them on, And then allure them with assured hopes Of love and favour till you have wound their follies Into the reach of your disdaine; and then To torture 'em, or having ta ••e 'em captives To slave and sell 'em to the worlds derision.

Str.

O sir Raphael—

Ra.

Shee feeles compunction! I will pursue it to the quick.

Str.

On good Sir Raphael.

Ra.

Consider then good Madam, since I know, And your own conscience knowes, that you have made A secret vow from your late husbands death Never to marry, how better and more glorious It would be for your honor to declare Your constant purpose to a single life, Then to fall into the transgression Of robbing men so of their wits and reason, And all by willfull humor: as this late Unhappy accident of madnesse in

The hopefull Knight Sir Ferdinando cryes Lowdly to your disgrace, and the worlds sorrow.

Str.

Halfe the worlds sorrow is mine own For that sad accident, I would I coold redeem't With halfe my health or life. But let me tell you (Now you have justly chidden me) that you Have a fault too.

Ra.

What ist in your construction?

Str.

As I conceal'd my vow of single living, And gave men leave to court me, by which meanes I won them into hopes, and robd their wits, You in declaring to the Court and City Your vow of chastity and single life, Yet dayly, nightly, howerly frequenting The company of Ladies, with your sweet, No lesse then grave discourse and conversation Have rob'd (nay I may say deflowr'd) more Ladies Of chast and honorable thoughts, then all The cavalry of Court.

Ra.

Who I Madam!

Str.

Even you sir Raphael (if unchast desires Must be held sinfull) I know some of them, And one (I feare) too well, that have bin subject Unto the breach of any vow for you, Yet you to vow a single and chast life; And publish your intent!

Ra.

Tis with intent, And a religious purpose to decline, And divert womans fond affections from me.

Str.

O, but forbidden things are womens longings! You have read, you have read (sir Raphael) you have read.

Falls on her Couch.

La.

And travell'd too: yet never could discover Such an example.

Str.

Pray sit down by me.

Ra.

Good thoughts possesse you Madam. I must hence.

Str.

I'le not be tedious to you. One word I pray sir?

Ra.

Vertue, be thou my armor. Briefly then Let me intreat you Madam▪

Str.

Pray refuse not To sit downe by me.

Ra.

Sanctity protect me.

Sit.

Str.

Sir, you are famous, and cry'd up by all For your great wisdome, Morall and Divine: You are the Ipse dixit of the Court As I have heard you stil'd by men of learning. The Court Philosopher—

Ra.

Madam to the point.

Str.

What is our strength, and what is not our frailty?

Ra.

Where is shee wandering now? Bee playner Madam.

Str.

Doe not my blushes (which I hope you pardon) Deliver you a message from my heart? Which I want words to ••••••••r? O these vowes! These rash and ill-made vowes! dos not your judgement Read something on this face? pray look upon me.

Ra.

I am no good interpreter of looks.

Str.

I dare not speake, till you have first remov'd A weighty scruple, which doth much perplexe me.

Ra.

You must first speake it Madam.

Str.

Whether these vowes, (I meane your own, and mine, for single life) May safely be dispens'd with or absolv'd, And we become a lawfull paire in Marriage? Pray sir resolve and blesse me in a Match.

Ra.

Madam I'le pray for you.

Starts up.

Str.

You will first kill me With your disdaine, and then you'l pray for me! Is that your Charity?

Ra.

I dare not heare you.

Str.

Leave me not so.

Ra.

Who waits upon my Lady here?

Exit.

Str.

I had no other way to shift him, would he would make An errand now to Rome to quit my scruple; And rid the Court of an officious foole: Women some times have sent wise men to schoole. Is the Knight gone?

Enter Philomel.

Ph.

And blessing of himselfe, As witch craft were i'th' house.

Str.

But where's my favorite Court-wit, has he brought his countrey Kinsman and the rest?

Ph.

They are all in your wit-office Madam (as you call the Roome) Passing the time among the Pipes and Bottles, And singing catches. Here you may here 'em Ma∣dam.

A catch.

Str.

Marry, this takes past▪ all sir Raphaels Lectures, Goe call 'em downe.

Exit Phi.

This Madam troubles me, 'would he were right agen; Or I quit of the scandall.

Enter Court-Swain, and Cit-wit.

O Gentlemen! y'are welcome, And chiefly you that are the onely stranger, I ha' been so troubled with an overtalking si••, that he Has wound me into melancholly—

Swa.

I wish you mirth Madam. I come not as one o' you-fooles to make you any though—Offer to go away.

Str.

Be not so briefe with mee, let mee intreat you though.

Sw.

Forgi'me for swearing doe you mock me tho'?

Str.

Mistake me not sweet sir—

Sw.

Sweet with a mischiefe! How sweet am I? I come

not as a suitor to your great Ladyship. I am a Gentleman of two hundred a yeare tho'.

Str.

Not as a suitor to me sir?

Sw.

No you are too great for me. Nor to your Mopsey without, though shee be snout-faire, and has some wit shee's too little for me, I understand degree and quality, respect and difference; and am scholler enough to know my unde and my quare.

Str.

You ga' me his true character. You are a com∣pleat Gentleman sir (if I mistake not) the Kinsman of my favorite here, who has given me an ample relation of your worth and vertue.

Cou.

Yes, Patronesse, 'tis he, who though not throughly vers'd, or conversant i'th' Court or City garbe, he under∣stands both Men and Manners.

Sw.

Prattle for your selfe sir.

Str.

But to the businesse Gentlemen.

Sw.

I that I would faine know if it be any.

Str.

You have heard I doubt not of a disastrous blot lately cast upon my 〈…〉〈…〉e, out of my owne free∣nesse.

Cit.

Concerning the Mad-courtier Madam, when 'tis as likely, that his Taylor made him mad as you, for not hitting the fashion right in his last rich suit. But tis most like he fell from a reasonable man, by over-studying him∣selfe what Lord he should be at the next creation, whe∣ther of Gleek, or Cribbidge;

In and in, or Hazard.

Sw.

Hearke how this shotten headed Cocks-combe prates! And how he, that can indure beating, dares speak any thing, or abuse all men! canst not give the Lady leave to speake tho'?

Str.

Since there is an aspersion layd upon my freenesse in giving entertainment unto persons of great and noble qua••ity, the world deeming it to be done by me meerly

for ost••ntation, to cry my own humor up, by drawing them into Love-knots, and then to slight or scorne them. My resolution is from henceforth, to exclude those great resorts, and friendly and freely be merry within our selfes. I have foure thousand a yeare to spend; and will be huswife good enough to keepe in compasse. I will not entertaine a servant, friend or guest above your rank or fortunes—

Sw.

Why—(forgi'me for swearing) what do you think of us?

Str.

I thinke you Gentlemen of worth and quality: and therefore welcome, I thinke you able to maintaine your selfes midle-sis'd Gent.

Cit.

I am Midlesex indeed; borne i'th' City.

Sw.

Give the Lady leave to speake tho'.

Str.

I'le give accesse to none, that the censorious world shall dare to judge a suitor to me, Or to finde favour further then meat and wine.

Sw.

Yes, faith a little money to; and make's your Fidlers.

Cit.

Pray give the Lady leave to speak though.

whe••

Str.

Mauger the greatnesse of my former visitants I give you my election for the chiefes Of my familier society. I may perhaps call in, (at least admit) People of meaner garbe, without (I hope Your grudge or envy. But they shall be men Of Science, Art, and Action.

Sw.

Of action Madam? who do you meane? the Players?

Str.

Why not? I love their quality and them, and mean to have the use of some of 'em shortly: Besides Musiti∣ans (Poets in the first place) and Painters: In which last mention'd art I heare you are excellent, though all this while so silent.

Dai.

I boast no skill or practise Madam: but I have drawne some pieces that have been worth my paines in my Rewards.

Str.

I must commend their ingenuity for whom you tooke those paines. But (where I left) I must make use of wits, of arts, and actions.

Sw.

Here in your house Madam, I would be glad to see the Actors, but I saw 'em at their own too lately: for I lost my purse there, no matter let it go. There was 15. pound in't tho!

Cit.

Sprecious! How now! my Fob has been ••ubd to day of six pieces, and a dozen shillings at least. No∣thing but a bowd groat left as I hope for my Grannums blessing.

Cou.

Sure you have been in some ill company.

Cit.

Pox of ill company I say. My watch is gone out of my Pocket too o'th right side.

Dai.

You rose o'the wrong side to day it seemes, were you in no crowd or quarrell?

Cit.

I never was in a〈…〉〈…〉 quarrell i'my life. I alwayes run from 'em.

Cou.

I dare sweare thou dost.

Cit.

I onely stood to day at the Coranto-shop to read the last great news; and I was hoop'd in I remember by some that seem'd to wonder as much as I.

Dai.

Then certainly there was a cut-purse amongst 'em.

Cit.

I'le go to honest Moll about it presently.

Sw.

But first stay and heare my Lady tho'.

Cou.

I Madam you were speaking of the use you would make of Poet, Painter, Musick, Actor and the like.

Str.

True favorite for a Masque that I intend to have shortly, you shall performe the poeticall part, your

servant Citwit the Musicall. And by your skill and directi∣ons the Painters office for the scenes. Dancers and spea∣kers I have in store.

Sw.

I must be something too tho', must I not Ma∣dam?

Str.

Marry and thanke you too sir.

Enter Philomil.

Now your Newes.

Phil.

Sir Andrew Mendicant desires to see you Madam.

Str.

You should have told him I would not be seene by him.

Ph.

I told him you were busy. But hee sayes hee is to speake with you upon a weighty businesse from the Court.

Str.

Tis the Court-begger. You know him favorite. Goe not away, I'le bring him in amongst you, And (as you love me) put some ridiculous projects to him.

Exit.

Dai.

What's that sir An••••••w Mendicant? doe you know him well?

Cour.

Thou askest still a question like a guilty person, with a look resembling fear upon thy face.

Dai.

My countenance is too blame then; not my con∣science.

Cit.

I'le tell you what he is.

Sw.

Still answering others questions?

Cit.

He is a Knight that hanckers about the Court, ambitious to make himselfe a Lord by begging. His braine is all Projects, and his soule nothing but Court-suits. He has begun more knavish suits at Court, then ever the Kings Taylor honestly finish'd, but never thriv'd by any: so that now hee's almost fallen from a Pallace B••gger to a spittle one. His businesse to my Lady now can be no∣thing but to borrow money to buy a paire of wheeles

to set some Project a going to Court for a Mo∣nopoly.

Sw.

Thou wert in hast e••ne now to looke after the money; but and thy Life lay on't thou must stay to abuse a man ••ehinde his back, who is a noble Gentleman thou knowst, and I have heard, yet (speake in thy conscience) wouldst thou not be beaten now?

Cou.

Forbeare, they come.

Enter Strangelove, Mendicant.

Str.

Sir, since it is requested by those great ones Whose power cannot command me in this case (For tis my charity and not my duty) I am content that the mad Ferdinand Shall so journe in my house for his recovery.

Men.

Tis thought you were the ground-work of his frensy The Doctors therefore mov'd their honours to it For that your frequent presence may be helpfull Towards his care.

Str.

He shall have it th•••• Towards the expiation of the crime They charge me with. But in case sir Andrew He should be cur'd by this meanes, I should then Crosse you in fortune and your future hopes Of his estate; which you have beg'd you say If he recover not.

Men.

I must leave that to fortune Madam.

Str.

Will you be pleas'd sir to take notice of These Gentlemen my friends. They may be usefull

Salute

For they have all projective braines I tell you.

Men.

Pray of what nature are your Projects Gentlemen?

Cou.

Sir my affection leanes much to Poetry, especialy the Drammatick.

Men.

Writing of strange Playes?

Cou.

I am glad I speake sir, to your understanding.

And my project is that no Playes may be admitted to the Stage, but of their making who Professe or indea∣vour to live by the quality: That no Courtiers, Divines, Students at Law, Lawyers-clearks, Tradesmen or Pren∣tises be allow'd to write 'em, nor the Works of any lay-Poet whatsoever to be receav'd to the Stage, though freely given unto the Actors, nay though any such Poet should give a summe of money with his Play, as with an Apprentice, unlesse the Author doe also become bound that it shall doe true and faithfull service for a whole Terme.

Men.

Here's a trim businesse towards, and as idle as the Players going to Law with their Poets.

Cou.

I have another sir, to procure a Patent for my selfe to have the onely priviledge to give instructions to all the actors in the City, (especially the younger sort) the better to enable them to speake their parts emphatically and to the life.

Men.

You were best take heede in time then that you well preserve your own voyce, for feare you doe a spoyle among 'em in teaching 'em to utter in unsavory tunes. Doe I come hither to be mock'd?

Sw.

Will you heare mine though? I am a Countrey Gentleman, young, healthfull and lusty. I heare com∣plaints of barrennesse in the City; and of men that can∣not get their wives with child; Get me but a Patent for't I'le undertake by my selfe and deputies (provided that the woman be sound and handsome) to make them mul∣tiply, and upon reasonable conditions: we will deale with the rich for money, and the poore for cha∣rity.

Men.

This is foolisher then tother. Doe you abuse me Gentlemen?

Sw.

Is that a wise man's question? you cannot tell th'o.

Cit.

We have our projects too Sir.

Men.

I would have yours first, you seeme a civill and substantiall Gentleman.

Dai.

In more private if you please Sir.

Men.

I like well his reservednesse.

Dai.

Sir I am a Picture-drawer Limner, or Painter (if you please) and wou'd gladly purchase authority, by my selfe and deputies, for the painting of all the Kings, and Queenes-head signes for Tavernes, Innes, Ale houses, and all Houses and Shops of Trade throughout the King∣dome upon this ground that they draw and hang up their t••yall Images for signes in so hideous manner that men blesse themselves to see't.

Men.

I marry this hangs upon some ground. But are you an exquisite workeman in that art si••?

Dai.

I am an Artist in that mistery sir, and have drawn some of his Majesties Pictures (by coppy onely but) so to the life, that Gentlemen have kneel'd to '••m for suites, and knight-hoods.

Men.

Indeed sir!

Dai.

Yes sir, and great Lords I have pictur'd so power∣fully, their own followers sodainly rushing into the room have started back, and solemnly stood bare to 'em as they hung o'the walls.

Men.

Ist possible!

Dai.

I drew a sterne Judge, and a civill Lawyer so to the life, that after their corps were in the Grave, a man durst not looke upon their pictures without a bribe, or double fee in's hand.

Men.

I do admire you!

Dai.

I ha' drawn Ladies too, with that alluring beau∣ty, that men have lov'd their dead pictures, for their pain∣ted lookes, more then their living persons for all their vertues.

Men.

Thou boy! introth you abuse me most merrily Gentlemen.

Goe.

Str.

An excellent fellow: I like him for that fancy more then all the rest.

Cit.

Pray heare my project too sir?

Str.

Yes good sir Andrew, you shall not part so ab∣ruptly.

Cit.

Mine is a good common wealths businesse, against the common Plague, that raignes i'th' City of Pick∣pockets, and Cut-purses▪ I my selfe ha' bin robb'd to day, and am going to a good member that deales in private for the recoveries of such goods: One that shall under∣take if you'l but get a Patent, for a Cutpurse-hall, or Office, to helpe all men to their owne againe, allowing but the Tithes of their Losses, and freeing the offending parties.

Men.

Fie, fie. Here's tithing indeed.

Cit.

Provided that notice be brought to the Office within foure and twenty houres after any such losse.

Men.

Enough, enough.

Cit.

Wee may by the same course secure the Coun∣ties too, and make the hangman hang himselfe.

Men.

Let every man be wise enough to looke to his purse, and there will be no Cut-purses, nor need of your patent.

Sw.

As wise a man as you may lose his purse tho', as I ha' done my selfe in a crow'd.

Men.

He puts me in mind of a crowd I was in once to day of company I lik'd not—ha—. For hea∣ven 'tis gone: And I dare not discover it for being laught at.

Cou.

It seemes none of your Projects will passe with you sir Andrew.

Str.

Come sir, they are but (as you said) merry with you.

Men.

Be you merry with them good Madam, you know the serious worke I came about. In which

I sodainly shall presume to give you a re-visite.

Str.

Pray do sir Andrew, bring your Mad-man. My garden Lodgings shall be his bedlem. Come gentlemen tis Dinner-time.

Cou.

We are your waiters Madam.

Exeunt Omnes.