 | The Court Begger |  |
ACT II.
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.
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.
(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 begin
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' toe
side.
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 gallantly
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 society
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 himselfe
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 affectionately?
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 remember
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.
Hee cannot be a Gentleman by birth or place.
A fine-handed, and a fine headed fellow he is; and pretends
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 welcomst
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 humorous
Lady, and loves to busy her selfe. But what are
we to her? are there not greater men, and Lords enough
attendance on her humors?
Cit.
I protest Mr. Swayn-wit, I admire your ingenuity.
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 witsponge,
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.
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.
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 tane '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
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.
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 utter? 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?
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)
And singing catches. Here you may heare 'em Madam.
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 sir, 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
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 compleat
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 understands
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 fame, out of my owne freenesse.
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 himselfe
what Lord he should be at the next creation, whether
of Gleek, or Cribbidge;
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
quality, the world deeming it to be done by me meerly
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,
Sw.
Yes, faith a little money to; and make's your
Fidlers.
Cit.
Pray give the Lady leave to speak though.
(whew
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 Musitians
(Poets in the first place) and Painters: In which last
mention'd art I heare you are excellent, though all this
while so silent.
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 fubd
to day of six pieces, and a dozen shillings at least. Nothing
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 any 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
the Painters office for the scenes. Dancers and speakers
I have in store.
Sw.
I must be something too tho', must I not Madam?
Str.
Marry and thanke you too sir.
Enter Philomel.
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 Andrew 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 conscience.
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 Begger to
a spittle one. His businesse to my Lady now can be nothing
but to borrow money to buy a paire of wheeles
Sw.
Thou wert in hast eene now to looke after the
money; but and thy Life lay on't thou must stay to abuse
a man he hinde 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 sojourne 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 then
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.
the Stage, but of their making who Professe or indeavour
to live by the quality: That no Courtiers, Divines,
Students at Law, Lawyers-clearks, Tradesmen or Prentises
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 complaints
of barrennesse in the City; and of men that cannot
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 multiply,
and upon reasonable conditions: we will deale
with the rich for money, and the poore for charity.
Men.
This is foolisher then tother. Doe you abuse me
Gentlemen?
Sw.
Is that a wise man's question? you cannot tell
th'o.
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 Kingdome
upon this ground that they draw and hang up their
royall 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 sir?
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 'em for suites,
and knight-hoods.
Men.
Indeed sir!
Dai.
Yes sir, and great Lords I have pictur'd so powerfully,
their own followers so dainly 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 beauty,
that men have lov'd their dead pictures, for their painted
lookes, more then their living persons for all their
vertues.
Men.
Thou boy! introth you abuse me most merrily
Gentlemen.
Goe.
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 abruptly.
Cit.
Mine is a good common wealths businesse, against
the common Plague, that raignes i' th' City of Pickpockets,
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 undertake
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 Counties
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 heaven
'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
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.
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