Five nevv playes, viz. The English moor, or the mock-marriage. The love-sick court, or the ambitious politique: Covent Garden weeded. The nevv academy, or the nevv exchange. The queen and concubine. / By Richard Brome.

Scoen. 1.

Enter Bettie, Frank, with swords drawn make fast the doors.

Bett.

NAy, you perpetual Pusse, I'le fetch him out of the very bowels of thee.

Fran.

He never came so deep himself yet with all that he could do, and I scorne the threatning of a She Marmaset.

Nick.

(Within) why Bettie, Frank, you mankinde Carions you. I vow, open the door, will you both kill one another, and cozen the Hangman of his fees?

Bett.

Thou hadst been better have bit off the dugs of thy Damme, thou pin-buttock Jade thou, than have snapt a bit of mine from me.

Fran.

Here's that shall stay your stomack better then the bit you snarle for. Thou greedy Brach thou.

Nick.

(Within) why wenches, are ye wild? break open the doores.

Bett.

That I could split that divellish tongue of thine!

Fran.

I have as good a spight at as ill a member about thee.

Enter Nick, Anthony.

Nick.

Hold, what's the devil in ye.

Ant.

Are ye so sharp-set ye Amazonian Trulls?

Belt.

Let me but make one passe at her.

Fran.

Pray let me go, and let her come.

Nick.

Can no blunter tooles then these serve to take down your furies?

Bett.

Let me come but within nailes reach of het.

Fran.

Let me but try the strength of my teeth upon her.

Nick.

As Hector 'twixt the hosts of Greece and Troy, When Paris and the Spartane King should end Their nine yeares warres, held up his brazen lance. In signal, that both Armies should surcease, And hear him speak. So let me crave your audience. Dear Bettie be advis'd, and Frank, forbear Thy thirst of Sisters blood. Whilest I rip up The folly of your strife. Your cases both Have been laid open to me. You contend For love of a lewd Citizen, that sleights, Nay more, disdaines, nay more, desies you both. Tony can tell, Mun Clotpoll also knows The words he spake, that you were both poor whores, Not poor alone, but foule infectious harlots. And that he wears your mark with pain and sorrow, Hopelesse to claw them off. With constant purpose Never to see you more, unlesse to greet.

Your bumpin buttocks with revengeful feet.

Bet.

Did he say so?

Fran.

And must we two fall out for such a slander∣ous Villain?

Ant.

No, agree, agree.

Nick.

Busse and be friends. Busse, or I'le baste ye both, I vow.

Bet.

Come Sister we'll be in for ever now.

Fran.

For my part, Sister, sure I was not out with you.

Bet.

But did he say he would kick us?

Ant.

Lo here, the man that dares it not deny.

Enter Citizen, Drawer.

Cit.

But do ye hear, Gentlemen. I hope you will use me kindlier then so.

Nick.

Than how, Sir?

Cit.

Then to win all my money, and leave me at stake for the reckoning. Pray do you pay the Drawer for me, though I pay it you again.

Ant.

What is it Drawer?

Draw.

The Gentlewomen and he had 14. sh. in before you came.

Nick.

'Tis a plain case, your cloak must answer it at the bar, Sir. Drawer, away with it.

Exit Drawtr with Cloke.

Cit.

Nay, but Gentlemen.

Nick.

I vow, do but look after it, till we be gone, and these shall claw thine eyes out.

Cit.

Well sir, I hope this quarter will not be al∣wayes lawlesse.

Ant.

Do you grumble? Mr. C••ffelesse.

Nic.

I vow you shall have cu••••es.

Bet.

Yes, that you shall.

Fran.

Cuts and slashes too before we part, Sir.

Cit.

You will not murder me, will you?

Nick.

Damosels forbear; and you, forbear your noise. I vow, I'le slit your wistle else. You shall give him due correction civilly, and we will make him take it civilly. Sit you down Sir.

Cit.

What will you do with me?

Nick.

I vow, mum.

Enter Clotpoll, Cockbraine,

Clot.

O, are ye here! was it a brotherly trick do ye think, to leave me to pay one reckoning twice? or did I think never to be made a mouth more, after I had paid my swearing dinner, and am I now a greater mouth then e're I was?

Nick.

Mum, hold your tongue still in your mouth, lest I halifax it with your teeth.

Clot.

Halifax my tongue. And listen to a businesse.

Nick.

Do yon know this man?

Clot.

Yes, the City mouth we had tother night.

Nick.

These are the Sisters that his lavish tongue so lewdly did deprave.

Clot.

I cry them heartily mercy Are you of the sweet Sisterhood? I hope to know you all, all the pretty Mumpers in the berrie here, before I have done. 'Tis true, I protest, he spake words of you, that such flesh and blood could not bear. He could not have spoken worse of mutton of a groat a quarter.

Bet.

And were we so fond to fight for him?

Fran.

But now we'll both be revenged upon the flesh of him.

Cit.

Pray let me speak with you.

Nick.

No, they shall beat you first. And mark me well. Do thou but stir an hand or foot, or raise a voice that may be heard to the next room, well cut thy weasand. Now wenches take your course.

Bet.

Nay, you slave, we'll mark you for a Sheep∣biter.

Fran.

We'll teach you how to scandalize.

Bet.

Have I given you that you cannot claw off, you Mungrel.

Clot.

Rare, I protest.

Ciot.

—oh—oh—oh.

Nick.

There, there.

Fran.

We'll claw thine eares off rather.

Cit.

—oh—oh—oh.

Clot.

O brave.

Cock.

O out-rage, most insufferable, all this goes into my black book.

Nick.

To him Bettie, at him Frank; there whores, there.

Ant.

Fie, fie, forbear, enough, too much in con∣science.

Cock.

That young man has some pity yet.

Ant.

I swear you shall no more.

Cock.

Alas, good Gentlemen, it is enough.

Nick.

I vow, do you prate? you shall have as much. Come, take the Chaire, Sir, the breeches shall bait him too.

Cock.

O good Gentlemen.

Nick.

I vow, they shall. To him and claw him, I'le clapperclaw your sides else

Cock.

O me! what mean you?

Bett.

Heyday! his beard comes off.

Ant.

And his head too What rotten scab is this?

Clot.

I protest, they have pulled my pieced brother in pieces here.

Nick.

I vow, some disguiz'd villain, and but for do∣ing the State so good service, we would hang him pre∣sently without examination.

Ant.

I know him. And you shall not touch him. Best is, he knows nor me. Good Heaven, what Brain∣trick has possest him.

Nick.

I vow, what canst thou be?

Ant.

Come, 'tis an honest fellow, that is only a∣sham'd to run so base a course for his living in his own face. Poor man, I warrant his feare threatens his breeches shrewdly. But let's away, and quickly, our stay is dangerous. Come, we forgot Mich. Croswil and the wenches.

Nick.

Come all away then, Sirrah, thank this Gentleman, and pray for him at the end of your Songs hereafter.

Clot.

Farewel, friend Peece. I'le know you better now, before you have't again.

Ex. omnes but Cock. and Cit.

Cock.

What monsters in mankinde? what hell-hounds are they? only as Ovid feign'd among the Getes. A friend at need, I with a friend was blest, Whom I may gratifie, and plague the rest. How is it with you, Sir?

Cit.

O, I am very sore.

Cock.

Indeed you are sorely handled. This may warne you out of such caterwaling company. You look like one more civil. And in hope you will be so, I'le bring you to a Barber.

Cit.

Alas, my Cloke.

Cock.

I'le help you to that too, so you with me, Will in an honest plot Assistant be.

Cit.

O Sir, in any thing, and thank you too, Sir.

Exeunt Ambo.