University of Virginia Library

Act. IJ.

Scene. I.

Meer-craft. Fitz-dottrel. Ingine. Traines. Pvg.
[Mer.]
Sir, money's a whore, a bawd, a drudge;
Fit to runne out on errands: Let her goe.
Via pecunia! when she's runne and gone,
And fled and dead; then will I fetch her, againe,
With Aqua-vitæ, out of an old Hogs-head!
While there are lees of wine, or dregs of beere,
I'le neuer want her! Coyne her out of cobwebs,
Dust, but I'll haue her! Raise wooll vpon egge-shells,
Sir, and make grasse grow out o' marro-bones.
To make her come. (Commend mee to your Mistresse,
Say, let the thousand pound but be had ready,
To a waiter.
And it is done) I would but see the creature
(Of flesh, and blood) the man, the prince, indeed,
That could imploy so many millions
As I would help him to.

Fit.
How, talks he? millions?

Mer.
(I'll giue you an account of this to morrow.)
To another.
Yes, I will talke no lesse, and doe it too;
If they were Myriades: and without the Diuell,
By direct meanes, it shall be good in law.

Ing.
Sir.

Mer.
Tell Mr. Wood-cock, I'll not faile to meet him
Vpon th'Exchange at night. Pray him to haue
The writings there, and wee'll dispatch it: Sir,
You are a Gentleman of a good presence,
A handsome man (I haue considered you)
As a fit stocke to graft honours vpon:
I haue a Proiect to make you a Duke, now.
That you must be one, within so many moneths,
As I set downe, out of true reason of state,
You sha' not auoyd it. But you must harken, then.

Ing.
Harken? why Sr, do you doubt his eares? Alas!
You doe not know Master Fitz-dottrel.

Fit.
He do's not know me indeed. I thank you, Ingine,
For rectifying him.

Mer.
Good! Why, Ingine, then
I'le tell it you. (I see you ha' credit, here,
And, that you can keepe counsell, I'll not question.)
Hee shall but be an vndertaker with mee,
In a most feasible bus'nesse. It shall cost him
Nothing.

Ing.
Good, Sr.

Mer.
Except he please, but's count'nance;
(That I will haue) t'appeare in't, to great men,
For which I'll make him one. Hee shall not draw
A string of's purse. I'll driue his pattent for him.
We'll take in Cittizens, Commoners, and Aldermen,
To beare the charge, and blow 'hem off againe,
Like so many dead flyes, when 'tis carryed.
The thing is for recouery of drown'd Land,
Whereof the Crown's to haue a moiety,
If it be owner; Else, the Crowne and Owners
To share that moyety: and the recouerers
T'enioy the tother moyety, for their charge.

Ing.
Throughout England?

Mer.
Yes, which will arise
To eyghteene millions, seuen the first yeere:
I haue computed all, and made my suruay
Vnto an acre, I'll beginne at the Pan,
Not, at the skirts: as some ha' done, and lost,
All that they wrought, their timber-worke, their trench,
Their bankes all borne away, or else fill'd vp
By the next winter. Tut, they neuer went
The way: I'll haue it all.

Ing.
A Gallant tract
Of land it is!

Mer.
'Twill yeeld a pound an acre.
Wee must let cheape, euer, at first. But Sir,
This lookes too large for you, I see. Come hither,
We'll haue a lesse. Here's a plain fellow, you see him,
Has his black bag of papers, there, in Buckram,
Wi'not be sold for th'Earledome of Pancridge: Draw,
Gi'me out one, by chance. Proiect; foure dogs skins?
Twelue thousand pound! the very worst, at first.

Fit.
Pray you let's see't Sir.

Mer.
'Tis a toy, a trifle!

Fit.
Trifle! 12. thousand pound for dogs-skins?

Mer.
Yes,
But, by my way of dressing, you must know, Sir,
And med'cining the leather, to a height
Of improu'd ware, like your Borachio
Of Spaine, Sir. I can fetch nine thousand for't—

Ing.
Of the Kings glouer?

Mer.
Yes, how heard you that?

Ing.
Sir, I doe know you can.

Mer.
Within this houre:
And reserue halfe my secret. Pluck another;
See if thou hast a happier hand: I thought so.
Hee pluckes out the 2. Bottle-ale.
The very next worse to it! Bottle-ale.
Yet, this is two and twenty thousand! Pr'y thee
Pull out another, two or three.

Fit.
Good, stay, friend,
By bottle-ale, two and twenty thousand pound?

Mer.
Yes, Sir, it's cast to penny-hal'penny-farthing,
O'the back-side, there you may see it, read,
I will not bate a Harrington o'the summe.
I'll winne it i'my water, and my malt,
My furnaces, and hanging o'my coppers,
The tonning, and the subtilty o' my yest;
And, then the earth of my bottles, which I dig,
Turne vp, and steepe, and worke, and neale, my selfe,
To a degree of Porc'lane. You will wonder,
At my proportions, what I will put vp
In seuen yeeres! for so long time, I aske
For my inuention. I will saue in cork,
In my mere stop'ling, 'boue three thousand pound,
Within that terme: by googing of 'hem out
Iust to the size of my bottles, and not slicing.
There's infinite losse i'that. What hast thou there?
Hee drawes out another. Raisines.
O'making wine of raisins: this is in hand, now,

Ing.
Is not that strange, Sr, to make wine of raisins?

Mer.
Yes, and as true a wine, as th'wines of France,
Or Spaine, or Italy, Looke of what grape
My raisin is, that wine I'll render perfect,
As of the muscatell grape, I'll render muscatell;
Of the Canary, his; the Claret, his;
So of all kinds: and bate you of the prices,
Of wine, throughout the kingdome, halfe in halfe.

Ing.
But, how, Sr, if you raise the other commodity,
Raysins?

Mer.
Why, then I'll make it out of black-berries:
And it shall doe the same. 'Tis but more art,
And the charge lesse. Take out another.

Fit.
No, good Sir.
Saue you the trouble, I'le not looke, nor heare
Of any, but your first, there; the Drown'd land:
If't will doe, as you say.

Mer.
Sir, there's not place,
To gi'you demonstration of these things.
They are a little to subtle. But, I could shew you
Such a necessity in't, as you must be
But what you please: against the receiu'd heresie,
That England beares no Dukes. Keepe you the land, Sr,
The greatnesse of th'estate shall throw't vpon you.
If you like better turning it to money,
What may not you, Sr, purchase with that wealth?
Say, you should part with two o'your millions,
To be the thing you would, who would not do't?
As I protest, I will, out of my diuident,
Lay, for some pretty principality,
In Italy, from the Church: Now, you perhaps,
Fancy the smoake of England, rather? But—
Ha' you no priuate roome, Sir, to draw to,
T'enlarge our selues more vpon.

Fit.
O yes, Diuell!

Mer.
These, Sir, are bus'nesses, aske to be carryed
With caution, and in cloud.

Fit.
I apprehend,
They doe so, Sr. Diuell, which way is your Mistresse?

Pvg.
Aboue, Sr. in her chamber.

Fit.
O that's well.
Then, this way, good, Sir.

Mer.
I shall follow you; Traines,
Gi'mee the bag, and goe you presently,
Commend my seruice to my Lady Tail-bush.
Tell her I am come from Court this morning; say,
I' haue got our bus'nesse mou'd, and well: Intreat her,
That shee giue you the four-score Angels, and see 'hem
Dispos'd of to my Councel, Sir Poul Eytherside.
Sometime, to day, I'll waite vpon her Ladiship,
With the relation.

Ing.
Sir, of what dispatch,
He is! Do you marke?

Mer.
Ingine, when did you see
My cousin Euer-ill? keepes he still your quarter?
I'the Bermudas?

Ing.
Yes, Sir, he was writing
This morning, very hard.

Mer.
Be not you knowne to him,
That I am come to Towne: I haue effected
A businesse for him, but I would haue it take him,
Before he thinks for't.

Ing.
Is it past?

Mer.
Not yet.
'Tis well o'the way.

Ing.
O Sir! your worship takes
Infinit paines.

Mer.
I loue Friends, to be actiue:
A sluggish nature puts off man, and kinde.

Ing.
And such a blessing followes it.

Mer.
I thanke
My fate. Pray you let's be priuate, Sir?

Fit.
In, here.

Mer.
Where none may interrupt vs.

Fit.
You heare, Diuel,
Lock the streete-doores fast, and let no one in
(Except they be this Gentlemans followers)
To trouble mee. Doe you marke? Yo' haue heard and seene
Something, to day; and, by it, you may gather
Your Mistresse is a fruite, that's worth the stealing
And therefore worth the watching. Be you sure, now,
Yo' haue all your eyes about you; and let in
No lace-woman; nor bawd, that brings French-masques,
And cut-works. See you? Nor old croanes, with wafers,
To conuey letters. Nor no youths, disguis'd
Like country-wiues, with creame, and marrow-puddings.
Much knauery may be vented in a pudding,
Much bawdy intelligence: They' are shrewd ciphers.
Nor turne the key to any neyghbours neede;
Be't but to kindle fire, or begg a little,
Put it out, rather: all out, to an ashe,
That they may see no smoake. Or water, spill it:
Knock o'the empty tubs, that by the sound,
They may be forbid entry. Say, wee are robb'd,
If any come to borrow a spoone, or so.
I wi'not haue good fortune, or gods blessing
Let in, while I am busie.

Pvg.
I'le take care, Sir.
They sha' not trouble you, if they would.

Fit.
Well, doe so.

Scene. II.

Pvg. Mistresse Fitzdottrell.
[Pvg.]
I haue no singular seruice of this, now?
Nor no superlatiue Master? I shall wish
To be in hell againe, at leasure? Bring,
A Vice from thence? That had bin such a subtilty,
As to bring broad-clothes hither: or transport
Fresh oranges into Spaine. I finde it, now;
My Chiefe was i'the right. Can any feind
Boast of a better Vice, then heere by nature,
And art, th'are owners of? Hell ne'r owne mee,
But I am taken! the fine tract of it
Pulls mee along! To heare men such professors
Growne in our subtlest Sciences! My first Act, now,
Shall be, to make this Master of mine cuckold:
The primitiue worke of darknesse, I will practise!
I will deserue so well of my faire Mistresse,
By my discoueries, first; my counsells after;
And keeping counsell, after that: as who,
So euer, is one, I'le be another, sure,
I'll ha' my share. Most delicate damn'd flesh!
Shee will be! O! that I could stay time, now,
Midnight will come too fast vpon mee, I feare,
Shee sends Diuell out.
To cut my pleasure—

Mrs. Fi.
Looke at the back-doore,
One knocks, see who it is.

Pvg.
Dainty she-Diuell!

Mrs. Fi.
I cannot get this venter of the cloake,
Out of my fancie; nor the Gentlemans way,
He tooke, which though 'twere strange, yet 'twas handsome,
And had a grace withall, beyond the newnesse.
Sure he will thinke mee that dull stupid creature,
Hee said, and may conclude it; if I finde not
Some thought to thanke th'attemp. He did presume,
By all the carriage of it, on my braine,
For answer; and will sweare 'tis very barren,
Diuell returnes.
If it can yeeld him no returne Who is it?

Pvg.
Mistresse, it is, but first, let me assure
The excellence, of Mistresses, I am,
Although my Masters man, my Mistresse slaue,
The seruant of her secrets, and sweete turnes,
And know, what fitly will conduce to either.

Mrs. Fi.
What's this? I pray you come to your selfe and thinke
What your part is: to make an answer. Tell,
Who is it at the doore?

Pvg.
The Gentleman, Mr s,
Who was at the cloake-charge to speake with you,
This morning, who expects onely to take
Some small command'ments from you, what you please,
Worthy your forme, hee saies, and gentlest manners.

Mrs. Fi.
O! you'll anon proue his hyr'd man, I feare,
What has he giu'n you, for this message? Sir,
Bid him put off his hopes of straw, and leaue
To spread his nets, in view, thus. Though they take
Master Fitz-dottrel, I am no such foule,
Nor faire one, tell him, will be had with stalking.
And wish him to for-beare his acting to mee,
At the Gentlemans chamber-window in Lincolnes-Inne there,
That opens to my gallery: else, I sweare
T'acquaint my husband with his folly, and leaue him
To the iust rage of his offended iealousie.
Or if your Masters sense be not so quicke
To right mee, tell him, I shall finde a friend
That will repaire mee. Say, I will be quiet.
In mine owne house? Pray you, in those words giue it him.

He goes out.
Pvg.
This is some foole turn'd!

Mrs. Fi.
If he be the Master,
Now, of that state and wit, which I allow him;
Sure, hee will vnderstand mee: I durst not
Be more direct. For this officious fellow,
My husbands new groome, is a spie vpon me,
I finde already. Yet, if he but tell him
This in my words, hee cannot but conceiue
Himselfe both apprehended, and requited.
I would not haue him thinke hee met a statue:
Or spoke to one, not there, though I were silent.
How now? ha' you told him?

Pvg.
Yes.

Mrs. Fi.
And what saies he?

Pvg.
Sayes he? That which my self would say to you, if I durst.
That you are proude, sweet Mistresse? and with all,
A little ignorant, to entertaine
The good that's proffer'd; and (by your beauties leaue)
Not all so wise, as some true politique wife
Would be: who hauing match'd with such a Nupson
(I speake it with my Masters peace) whose face
Hath left t'accuse him, now, for't doth confesse him,
What you can make him; will yet (out of scruple,
And a spic'd conscience) defraud the poore Gentleman,
At least delay him in the thing he longs for,
And makes it hs whole study, how to compasse,
Onely a title. Could but he write Cuckold,
He had his ends. For, looke you—

Mrs. Fi.
This can be
None but my husbands wit.

Pvg.
My pretious Mr s.

M. Fi.
It creaks his Ingine: The groome neuer durst
Be, else, so saucy—

Pvg.
If it were not clearely,
His worshipfull ambition; and the top of it;
The very forked top too: why should hee
Keepe you, thus mur'd vp in a back-roome, Mistresse,
Allow you ne'r a casement to the streete,
Feare of engendering by the eyes, with gallants,
Forbid you paper, pen and inke, like Rats-bane.
Search your halfe pint of muscatell, lest a letter
Be suncke i'the pot: and hold your new-laid egge
Against the fire, lest any charme be writ there?
Will you make benefit of truth, deare Mistresse,
If I doe tell it you: I do't not often?
I am set ouer you, imploy'd, indeed,
To watch your steps, your lookes, your very breathings,
And to report them to him. Now, if you
Will be a true, right, delicate sweete Mistresse,
Why, wee will make a Cokes of this Wise Master,
We will, my Mistresse, an absolute fine Cokes,
And mock, to ayre, all the deepe diligences
Of such a solemne, and effectuall Asse,
An Asse to so good purpose, as wee'll vse him.
I will contriue it so, that you shall goe
To Playes, to Masques, to Meetings, and to Feasts.
For, why is all this Rigging, and fine Tackle, Mistris,
If you neat handsome vessells, of good sayle,
Put not forth euer, and anon, with your nets
Abroad into the world. It is your fishing.
There, you shal choose your friends, your seruants, Lady,
Your squires of honour; I'le conuey your letters,
Fetch answers, doe you all the offices,
That can belong to your bloud, and beauty. And,
For the variety, at my times, although
I am not in due symmetrie, the man
Of that proportion; or in rule
Of physicke, of the iust complexion;
Or of that truth of Picardill, in clothes,
To boast a soueraignty o're Ladies: yet
I know, to do my turnes, sweet Mistresse. Come, kisse—

Mrs. Fi.
How now!

Pvg.
Deare delicate Mist. I am your slaue,
Your little worme, that loues you: your fine Monkey;
Your Dogge, your Iacke, your Pug, that longs to be
Stil'd, o'your pleasures.

Mrs. Fit.
Heare you all this? Sir, Pray you,
Shee thinkes her husband watches.
Come from your standing, doe, a little, spare
Your selfe, Sir, from your watch, t'applaud your Squire,
That so well followes your instructions!

Scene. III.

Fitz-dottrell. Mistresse Fitz-dottrel. Pvg.
[Fit.]
How now, sweet heart? what's the matter?

Mrs. Fi.
Good!
You are a stranger to the plot! you set not
Your saucy Diuell, here, to tempt your wife,
With all the insolent vnciuill language,
Or action, he could vent?

Fit.
Did you so, Diuell?

Mrs. Fit.
Not you? you were not planted i' your hole to heare him,
Vpo' the stayres? or here, behinde the hangings?
I doe not know your qualities? he durst doe it,
And you not giue directions?

Fit.
You shall see, wife,
Whether he durst, or no: and what it was,
I did direct.

Her husband goes out, and enters presently with a cudgell vpon him.
Pvg.
Sweet Mistresse, are you mad?

Fit.
You most mere Rogue! you open manifest Villaine!
You Feind apparant you! you declar'd Hel-hound!

Pvg.
Good Sr.

Fit.
Good Knaue good Rascal, and good Traitor.
Now, I doe finde you parcel-Diuell, indeed.
Vpo' the point of trust? I' your first charge?
The very day o' your probation?
To tempt your Mistresse? You doe see, good wedlocke,
How I directed him.

Mrs. Fit.
Why, where Sr, were you?

Fit.
Nay, there is one blow more, for exercise:
After a pause. He strikes him againe
I told you, I should doe it.

Pvg.
Would you had done, Sir.

Fit.
O wife, the rarest man! yet there's another
To put you in mind o'the last. such a braue man, wife!
Within, he has his proiects, and do's vent 'hem,
The gallantest! where you tentiginous? ha?
and againe.
Would you be acting of the Incubus?
Did her silks rustling moue you?

Pvg.
Gentle Sir.

Fit.
Out of my sight. If thy name were not Diuell,
Thou should'st not stay a minute with me. In,
Goe, yet stay: yet goe too. I am resolu'd,
What I will doe: and you shall know't afore-hand.
Soone as the Gentleman is gone, doe you heare?
I'll helpe your lisping. Wife, such a man, wife!
Diuell goes out.
He has such plots! He will make mee a Duke!
No lesse, by heauen! six Mares, to your coach, wife!
That's your proportion! And your coach-man bald!
Because he shall be bare, inough. Doe not you laugh,
We are looking for a place, and all, i' the map
What to be of. Haue faith, be not an Infidell.
You know, I am not easie to be gull'd.
I sweare, when I haue my millions, else, I'll make
Another Dutchesse; if you ha' not faith.

Mrs. Fi.
You'll ha' too much, I feare, in these false spirits,

Fit.
Spirits? O, no such thing! wife! wit, mere wit!
This man defies the Diuell, and all his works!
He dos't by Ingine, and deuises, hee!
He has his winged ploughes, that goe with sailes,
Will plough you forty acres, at once! and mills,
Will spout you water, ten miles off! All Crowland
Is ours, wife; and the fens, from vs, in Norfolke,
To the vtmost bound of Lincoln-shire! we haue view'd it,
And measur'd it within all; by the scale!
The richest tract of land, Loue, i' the kingdome!
There will be made seuenteene, or eighteene millions;
Or more, as't may be handled! wherefore, thinke,
Sweetheart, if th'hast a fancy to one place,
More then another, to be Dutchesse of;
Now, name it: I will ha't, what ere it cost,
(If't will be had for money) either here,
Or'n France, or Italy.

Mrs. Fi.
You ha' strange phantasies!

Scene. IV.

Mere-craft. Fitz-dottrell. Ingine.
[Mer.]
VVhere are you, Sir?

Fit.
I see thou hast no talent
This way, wife. Vp to thy gallery; doe, Chuck,
Leaue vs to talke of it, who vnderstand it.

Mer.
I thinke we ha' found a place to fit you, now, Sir.
Gloc'ster.

Fit.
O, no, I'll none!

Mer.
Why, Sr?

Fit.
Tis fatall.

Mer:
That you say right in. Spenser, I thinke, the younger,
Had his last honour thence. But, he was but Earle.

Fit.
I know not that, Sir. But Thomas of Woodstocke,
I'm sure, was Duke, and he was made away,
At Calice; as Duke Humphrey was at Bury:
And Richard the third, you know what end he came too.

Mer.
By m'faith you are cunning i'the Chronicle, Sir.

Fit.
No, I confesse I ha't from the Play-bookes,
And thinke they'are more authentique.

Ing.
That's sure, Sir.

He whispers him of a place.
Mer.
What say you (to this then)

Fit.
No, a noble house.
Pretends to that. I will doe no man wrong.

Mer.
Then take one proposition more, and heare it
As past exception.

Fit.
What's that?

Mer.
To be
Duke of those lands, you shall recouer: take
Your title, thence, Sir, Duke of the Drown'd-lands,
Or Drown'd-land.

Fit.
Ha? that last has a good sound!
I like it well. The Duke of Drown'd-land?

Ing.
Yes;
It goes like Groen-land, Sir, if you marke it.

Mer:
I,
And drawing thus your honour from the worke,
You make the reputation of that, greater;
And stay't the longer i' your name.

Fit.
'Tis true.
Drown'd-lands will liue in Drown'd-land!

Mer.
Yes, when you
Ha' no foote left; as that must be, Sir, one day.
And, though it tarry in your heyres, some forty,
Fifty descents, the longer liuer, at last, yet,
Must thrust 'hem out on't: if no quirk in law,
Or odde Vice o'their owne not do' it first.
Wee see those changes, daily: the faire lands,
That were the Clyents, are the Lawyers, now:
And those rich Mannors, there, of good man Taylors,
Had once more wood vpon 'hem, then the yard,
By which th'were measur'd out for the last purchase.
Nature hath these vicissitudes. Shee makes
No man a state of perpetuery, Sir.

Fit.
Yo'are i'the right. Let's in then, and conclude.
Hee spies Diuell.
I my sight, againe? I'll talke with you, anon.

Scene. V.

Pvg.
Svre hee will geld mee, if I stay: or worse,
Pluck out my tongue, one o'the two. This Foole,
There is no trusting of him: and to quit him,
Were a contempt against my Chiefe, past pardon.
It was a shrewd disheartning this, at first!
Who would ha' thought a woman so well harness'd,
Or rather well-caparison'd, indeed,
That weares such petticoates, and lace to her smocks,
Broad seaming laces (as I see 'hem hang there)
And garters which are lost, if shee can shew 'hem,
Could ha' done this? Hell! why is shee so braue?
It cannot be to please Duke Dottrel, sure,
Nor the dull pictures, in her gallery,
Nor her owne deare reflection, in her glasse;
Yet that may be: I haue knowne many of 'hem,
Beginne their pleasure, but none end it, there:
(That I consider, as I goe a long with it)
They may, for want of better company,
Or that they thinke the better, spend an houre;
Two, three, or foure, discoursing with their shaddow:
But sure they haue a farther speculation.
No woman drest with so much care, and study,
Doth dresse her selfe in vaine. I'll vexe this probleme,
A little more, before I leaue it, sure.

Scene. VI.

VVittipol. Manly. Mistresse Fitz-dottrel. Pvg.
[Wit.]
This was a fortune, happy aboue thought,
That this should proue thy chamber; which I fear'd
Would be my greatest trouble! this must be
The very window, and that the roome.

Man.
It is.
I now remember, I haue often seene there
A woman, but I neuer mark'd her much.

Wit.
Where was your soule, friend?

Man.
Faith, but now, and then,
Awake vnto those obiects.

Wit.
You pretend so.
Let mee not liue, if I am not in loue
More with her wit, for this direction, now,
Then with her forme, though I ha' prais'd that prettily,
Since I saw her, and you, to day. Read those.
Hee giues him a paper, wherein is the copy of a Song.
They'll goe vnto the ayre you loue so well.
Try 'hem vnto the note, may be the musique
Will call her sooner; light, shee's here! Sing quickly.

Mrs. Fit.
Either he vnderstood him not: or else,
The fellow was not faithfull in deliuery,
Of what I bad. And, I am iustly pay'd,
That might haue made my profit of his seruice,
But, by mis-taking, haue drawne on his enuy,
And done the worse defeate vpon my selfe.
Manly sings, Pug enters perceiues it.
How! Musique? then he may be there: and is sure.

Pvg.
O! Is it so? Is there the enter-view?
Haue I drawne to you, at last, my cunning Lady?
The Diuell is an Asse! fool'd off! and beaten!
Nay, made an instrument! and could not sent it!
Well, since yo' haue showne the malice of a woman,
No lesse then her true wit, and learning, Mistresse,
I'll try, if little Pug haue the malignity
To recompence it, and so saue his danger.
'Tis not the paine, but the discredite of it,
The Diuell should not keepe a body intire.

Wit.
Away, fall backe, she comes.

Man.
I'll leaue you, Sir,
The Master of my chamber. I haue businesse.

Wit.
Mr s!

Mrs. Fi.
You make me paint, Sr.

Wit.
The'are faire colours,
Lady, and naturall! I did receiue
Some commands from you, lately, gentle Lady,
This Scene is acted at two windo's, as out of two contiguous buildings.
But so perplex'd, and wrap'd in the deliuery,
As I may feare t'haue mis-interpreted:
But must make suit still, to be neere your grace.

Mrs. Fi.
Who is there with you, Sr?

Wit.
None, but my selfe.
It falls out, Lady, to be a deare friends lodging.
Wherein there's some conspiracy of fortune
With your poore seruants blest affections.

Mrs. Fi.
Who was it sung?

Wit.
He, Lady, but hee's gone,
Vpon my entreaty of him, seeing you
Approach the window. Neither need you doubt him,
If he were here. He is too much a gentleman.

Mrs. Fi.
Sir, if you iudge me by this simple action,
And by the outward habite, and complexion
Of easinesse, it hath, to your designe;
You may with Iustice, say, I am a woman:
And a strange woman. But when you shall please,
To bring but that concurrence of my fortune,
To memory, which to day your selfe did vrge:
It may beget some fauour like excuse,
Though none like reason.

Wit.
He growes more familiar in his Court-ship.
playes with her paps, kisseth her hands, &c.

Scene. VII.

Fitz-dottrell. Wittipol. Pvg.
[Fit.]
Is shee so, Sir? and, I will keepe her so.
Her husband appeares at her back.
If I know how, or can: that wit of man
Will doe't, I'll goe no farther. At this windo'
She shall no more be buz'd at. Take your leaue on't.
If you be sweet meates, wedlock, or sweet flesh,
All's one: I doe not loue this hum about you.
A flye-blowne wife is not so proper, In:
Hee speakes out of his wiues window.
For you, Sr, looke to heare from mee.

Wit.
So, I doe, Sir.

Fit.
No, but in other termes. There's no man offers
This to my wife, but paies for't.

Wit.
That haue I, Sir.

Fit.
Nay, then, I tell you, you are.

Wit.
What am I, Sir?

Fit.
Why, that I'll thinke on, when I ha' cut your throat.

Wit.
Goe, you are an Asse.

Fit.
I am resolu'd on't, Sir.

Wit.
I thinke you are.

Fit.
To call you to a reckoning.

Wit.
Away, you brokers blocke, you property.

Fit.
S'light, if you strike me, I'll strike your Mistresse,

Hee strikes his wife.
Wit.
O! I could shoote mine eyes at him, for that, now;
Or leaue my teeth in him, were they cuckolds bane,
Inough to kill him. What prodigious,
Blinde, and most wicked change of fortune's this?
I ha' no ayre of patience: all my vaines
Swell, and my sinewes start at iniquity of it.
I shall breake, breake.

Pvg.
This for the malice of it,
And my reuenge may passe! But, now, my conscience
The Diuell speakes below.
Tells mee, I haue profited the cause of Hell
But little, in the breaking-off their loues.
Which, if some other act of mine repaire not,
I shall heare ill of in my accompt.

Fit.
O, Bird!
Could you do this? 'gainst me? and at this time, now?
Fitz-dottrel enters with his wife as come downe.
When I was so imploy'd, wholly for you,
Drown'd i'my care (more, then the land, I sweare,
I'haue hope to win) to make you peere-lesse? studying,
For footemen for you, fine pac'd huishers, pages,
To serue you o'the knee; with what Knights wife,
To beare your traine, and sit with your foure women
In councell, and receiue intelligences,
From forraigne parts, to dresse you at all pieces!
Y'haue (a'most) turn'd my good affection, to you;
Sowr'd my sweet thoughts; all my pure purposes:
I could now finde (i'my very heart) to make
Another, Lady Dutchesse; and depose you.
Well, goe your waies in. Diuell, you haue redeem'd all.
I doe forgiue you. And I'll doe you good.

Scene VIIJ.

Mere-craft. Fitz-dottrel. Ingine. Traines.
[Mer.]
Why ha you these excursions? where ha' you beene, Sir?

Fit.
Where I ha'beene vex'd a little, with a toy!

Mer.
O Sir! no toyes must trouble your graue head,
Now it is growing to be great. You must
Be aboue all those things.

Fit.
Nay, nay, so I will.

Mer.
Now you are to'ard the Lord, you must put off
The man, Sir.

Ing.
He saies true.

Mer.
You must do nothing
As you ha'done it heretofore; not know,
Or salute any man.

Ing.
That was your bed-fellow,
The other moneth.

Mer.
The other moneth? the weeke.
Thou dost not know the priuiledges, Ingine,
Follow that Title; nor how swift: To day,
When he has put on his Lords face once, then—

Fit.
Sir, for these things I shall doe well enough,
There is no feare of me. But then, my wife is
Such an vntoward thing! shee'll neuer learne
How to comport with it! I am out of all
Conceipt, on her behalfe.

Mer.
Best haue her taught, Sir.

Fit.
Where? Are there any Schooles for Ladies? Is there
An Academy for women? I doe know,
For men, there was: I learn'd in it, my selfe,
Ingine whispers Merecraft, Merecraft turnes to Fitz-dottrel.
To make my legges, and doe my postures.

Ing.
Sir.
Doe you remember the conceipt you had—
O'the Spanish gowne, at home?

Mer.
Ha! I doe thanke thee,
With all my heart, deare Ingine. Sir, there is
A certaine Lady, here about the Towne,
An English widdow, who hath lately trauell'd,
But shee's call'd the Spaniard; cause she came
Latest from thence: and keepes the Spanish habit.
Such a rare woman! all our women heere,
That are of spirit, and fashion flocke, vnto her,
As to their President; their Law; their Canon;
More then they euer did, to Oracle-Foreman.
Such rare receipts shee has, Sir, for the face;
Such oyles; such tinctures; such pomatumn's;
Such perfumes; med'cines; quintessences, &c.
And such a Mistresse of behauiour;
She knowes, from the Dukes daughter, to the Doxey,
What is their due iust: and no more!

Fit.
O Sir!
You please me i'this, more then mine owne greatnesse.
Where is shee? Let vs haue her.

Mer.
By your patience,
We must vse meanes; cast how to be acquainted—

Fit.
Good, Sr, about it.

Mer.
We must think how, first.

Fit.
O!
I doe not loue to tarry for a thing,
When I haue a mind to't. You doe not know me.
If you doe offer it.

Mer.
Your wife must send
Some pretty token to her, with a complement,
And pray to be receiu'd in her good graces,
All the great Ladies do't,

Fit.
She shall, she shall,
What were it best to be?

Mer.
Some little toy,
I would not haue it any great matter, Sir:
A Diamant ring, of forty or fifty pound,
Would doe it handsomely: and be a gift
Fit for your wife to send, and her to take.

Fit.
I'll goe, and tell my wife on't, streight.

Mer.
Why this
Fitz-dottrel goes out.
Is well! The clothes we'haue now: But, where's this Lady?
If we could get a witty boy, now, Ingine;
That were an excellent cracke. I could instruct him,
To the true height. For any thing takes this dottrel.

Ing.
Why, Sir your best will be one o'the players!

Mer.
No, there's no trusting them. They'll talke on't,
And tell their Poets.

Ing.
What if they doe? the iest
will brooke the Stage. But, there be some of 'hem
Are very honest Lads. There's Dicke Robinson
A very pretty fellow, and comes often
To a Gentlemans chamber, a friends of mine. We had
The merriest supper of it there, one night,
The Gentlemans Land-lady invited him
To'a Gossips feast, Now, he Sir brought Dick Robinson,
Drest like a Lawyers wife, amongst 'hem all;
(I lent him cloathes) but, to see him behaue it;
And lay the law; and carue; and drinke vnto 'hem;
And then talke baudy: and send frolicks! o!
It would haue burst your buttons, or not left you
A seame.

Mer.
They say hee's an ingenious youth!

Ing.
O Sir! and dresses himselfe, the best! beyond
Forty o'your very Ladies! did you ne'r see him?

Mer.
No, I do seldome see those toyes. But thinke you,
That we may haue him?

Ing.
Sir, the young Gentleman
I tell you of, can command him. Shall I attempt it?

Enters againe.
Mer.
Yes, doe it.

Fit.
S'light, I cannot get my wife
To part with a ring, on any termes: and yet,
The sollen Monkey has two.

Mer.
It were 'gainst reason,
That you should vrge it; Sir, send to a Gold-smith,
Let not her lose by't?

Fit.
How do's she lose by't?
Is't not for her?

Mer.
Make it your owne bounty,
It will ha' the better successe; what is a matter
Of fifty pound to you, Sr.

Fit.
I'haue but a hundred
Pieces, to shew here; that I would not breake—

Mer.
You shall ha' credit, Sir. I'll send a ticket
Vnto my Gold-smith. Heer, my man comes too,
Traines enters.
To carry it fitly. How now, Traines? What birds?

Tra.
Your Cousin Euer-ill met me, and has beat mee,
Because I would not tell him where you were:
I think he has dogd me to the house too.

Fit.
Well—
You shall goe out at the back-doore, then, Traines.
You must get Guilt-head hither, by some meanes:

Tra.
'Tis impossible!

Fit.
Tell him, we haue venison,
I'll g' him a piece, and send his wife a Phesant.

Tra.
A Forrest moues not, till that forty pound,
Yo' had of him, last, be pai'd. He keepes more stirre,
For that same petty summe, then for your bond
Of sixe; and Statute of eight hundred!

Fit.
Tell him
Wee'll hedge in that. Cry vp Fitz-dottrell to him,
Double his price: Make him a man of mettall.

Tra.
That will not need, his bond is currant inough.