 | VVit At severall VVeapons |  |
Actus Quartus.
Scena Prima.
Enter Old Knight and Witty-Pate.O. K.
Oh torture! torture! thou carriest a sting i'thy taile,
Thou never brought'st good news i'thy life yet,
And that's an ill quality, leave it when thou wilt.
Witty.
Why you receive a blessing the wrong way, Sir,
Call you not this good newes? to save at once Sir
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Would it not vexe your peace, and gaule your worth?
T'have one of your name hang'd?
O. K.
Peace, no such words, boy.
Wit.
Be thankfull for the blessing of prevention then.
O. K.
Le' me see, there was none hang'd out of our house since Brute,
I ha' search't both Stowe, and Hollinshead.
Wit.
O Sir.
O. K.
Ile see what Polychronicon saies anon too.
Wit.
'Twas a miraculous fortune that I heard on't.
O. K.
I would thou'dst never heard on't,
Wit.
That's true too,
So it had ne're been done; to see the luck on't,
He was ev'n brought to Justice Aurums threshold,
There had flewen forth a Mittimus straight for Newgate;
And note the fortune too, Sessions a Thursday,
Jury cul'd out a Friday, Judgement a Saturday,
Dungeon a Sunday, Tyburne a Munday,
Miseries quotidian ague, when't begins once,
Every day puls him, till he pull his last.
O. K.
No more, I say, 'tis an ill theame: where left you him?
Wit.
He's i'th Constables hands below i'th Hall, Sir,
Poore Gentleman, and his accuser with him.
O. K.
What's he?
Wit.
A Judges Sonne, 'tis thought so much the worse too,
He'l hang his enemy, an't shall cost him nothing,
That's a great priviledge.
O. K.
Within there?
Enter Servant.
Serv.
Sir?
O. K.
Call up the folks i'th Hall. I had such hope on him,
For a Scholler too, a thing thou ne're wast fit for,
Therefore erected all my joyes in him;
Got a Welch Benefice in reversion for him,
Deane of Cardigan, has his grace already,
He can marry and bury, yet ne're a haire on's face;
Enter Credulous, Sir Ruinous (as a Constable,) and Lady Gentry (as a man.)
Like a French Vicar, and doe's he bring such fruits to Town with him?
A thiefe at his first lighting? Oh good den to you.
Wit.
Nay, sweet Sir, you'r so vext now, you'l grieve him,
And hurt your selfe.
O. K.
Away, Ile heare no counsell;
Come you but once in seven yeare to your Uncle,
And at that time must you be brought home too?
And by a Constable?
Wit.
Oh speake low, Sir,
Remember your owne credit, you professe
You love a man a' wit, begin at home, Sir,
Expresse it i' your self.
Lady.
Nay, Master Constable,
Shew your self a wise man, 'gainst your nature too.
Ruin.
Sir, no Dish-porridgement, we have brought home
As good men as ye.
O. K.
Out, a North-Brittaine Constable, that tongue
Will publish all, it speaks so broad already;
Are you the Gentlewoman?
Lady.
The unfortunate one, Sir,
That fell into the power of mercilesse thieves,
Whereof this fellow, whom I'de call your kinsman,
As little as I could, (for the faire reverence
I owe to fame and yeares) was the prime villaine.
O. K.
A wicked prime.
Wit.
Nay, not so loud, sweet father.
Lad.
The rest are fled, but I shall meet with 'em,
Hang one of 'em I will certaine, I ha' swore it,
And 'twas my luck to light upon this first.
O. K.
A Cambridge man for this? these your degrees, Sir?
Nine yeares at University for this fellowship?
Wit.
Take your voyce lower, deare Sir.
O. K.
What's your losse, Sir?
Lady.
That which offends me to repeat, the Money's whole, Sir,
'Tis i'the Constables hands there, a seal'd hundred,
But I will not receive it.
O. K.
No? not the money, Sir,
Having confest 'tis all?
Lady.
'Tis all the Money, Sir,
But 'tis not all I lost, for when they bound me,
They tooke a Diamond hung at my shirt string,
Which feare of life made me forget to hide;
It being the sparkling witnesse of a Contract
'Twixt a great Lawyers daughter and my selfe.
Wit.
I told you what he was; what does the Diamond
Concerne my Cozen, Sir?
Lady.
No more did the Money,
But he shall answer all now.
Wit.
There's your conscience,
It shewes from whence you sprung.
Lady.
Sprung? I had leapt a thiefe,
Had I leapt some of your alliance.
Wit.
Slave!
Lady.
You prevent me still.
O. K.
'Slid, sonne are you mad?
Lady.
Come, come, Ile take a legall course.
O. K.
Will you undo us all? what's your demand, Sir?
Now we're in's danger too.
Lady.
A hundred Marke, Sir,
I will not bate a doit.
Witty.
A hundred rascals.
Lady.
Sir, finde 'em out in your own blood, and take 'em.
Wit.
Go take your course, follow the Law, and spare not.
O. K.
Does fury make you drunke? know you what you say?
Wit.
A hundred dogs dungs, do your worst.
O. K.
You do I'me sure; whose loud now?
Wit.
What his owne asking?
O. K.
Not in such a case?
Wit.
You shall have but three score pound; spite a your teeth,
Ile see you hangd first.
O. K.
And whats seven pound more man?
That all this coyle's about? stay, I say, he shall ha't.
Wit.
It is your owne, you may do what you please with it;
Pardon my zeale, I would ha sav'd you money;
Give him all his owne asking?
O. K.
What's that to you, Sir?
Be sparing of your owne, teach me to pinch
In such a case as this? go, go, live by your wits, go.
Wit.
I practise all I can.
O. K.
Follow you me, Sir,
And Master Constable come from the knave,
And be a witnesse of a full recompence.
Wit.
Pray stop the Constables mouth, what ere you do. Sir
O. K.
Yet agen? as if I meant not to do that my selfe,
Without your counsell? As for you, precious kinsman,
Your first years fruits in Wales shall go to rack for this,
You lye not in my house, Ile pack you out,
And pay for your lodging rather.
Exeunt Knight, Ruin. and Lady.
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Oh fie Cozen,
These are ill courses, you a Scholler too.
Cred.
I was drawne into't most unfortunately,
By filthy deboyst company.
Wit.
I, I, I,
'Tis even the spoile of all our youth in England;
What were they Gentlemen?
Cred.
Faith so like, some on 'em,
They were ev'n the worse agen.
Wit.
Hum.
Cred.
Great Tobacco swivers,
They would go neere to rob with a pipe in their mouths.
Wit.
What, no?
Cred.
Faith leave it Cozen, because my rascals use it,
Wit.
So they do meat and drinke, must worthy Gentlemen
Refraine their food for that? an honest man
May eat of the same pig some Parson dines with,
A Lawyer and a foole feed of one Woodcock,
Yet one ne're the simpler, t'other ne're the wiser;
'Tis not meat, drinke, or smoak, dish, cup, or pipe,
Co-operates to the making of a knave,
'Tis the condition makes a slave, a slave,
There's London Philosophy for you; I tell you cozen,
You cannot be too cautelous, nice, or dainty,
In your society here, especially
When you come raw from the University,
Before the world has hardned you a little,
For as a butter'd loafe is a Schollers breakfast there,
So a poacht Scholler is a cheaters dinner here,
I ha' knowne seven of 'em supt up at a Meale.
Cred.
Why a poacht Scholler?
Wit.
Cause he powres himself forth,
And all his secrets, at the first acquaintance,
Never so crafty to be eaten i'th shell,
But is outstript of all he has at first,
And goes downe glibb, he's swallowed with sharp wit,
Stead of Wine Vinegar.
Cred.
I shall think, Cozen,
A' your poch't Scholler, while I live.
Enter Servant.
Serv.
Master Credulous,
Your Uncle wills you to forbeare the House,
You must with me, I'me charg'd to see you plac'd
In some new lodging about Theeving Lane,
What the conceit's, I know not, but commands you
To be seene here no more, till you heare further.
Cred.
Here's a strange welcome, Sir.
Wit.
This is the world, Cozen;
When a mans fame's once poyson'd, fare thee well Lad.
Exit Cred. and Servant.
This is the happiest cheat I e're claim'd share in,
It has a two fold fortune, gets me coyne,
And puts him out of grace, that stood between me,
My fathers Cambridge Jewell, much suspected
To be his Heyre, now there's a barre in's hopes.
Enter Ruinous, and Lady Gentry.
Ruin.
It chinks, make haste.
Lady.
The Goat at Smithfield Pens.
Enter Cunningame (with a Letter.)
Wit.
Zo, zo, zufficient. Master Cunningame?
I never have ill luck when I meet a wit.
Cun.
A wit's better to meet, then to follow then,
For I ha' none so good I can commend yet,
But commonly men unfortunate to themselves,
Are luckiest to their friends, and so may I be.
Wit.
I run o're so much worth, going but in haste from you,
All my deliberate friendship cannot equall.
Cun.
'Tis but to shew that you can place sometimes,
Enter Mirabell.
Your modesty a top of all your vertues.
Exit Wit.
This Gentleman may pleasure me yet agen;
I am so haunted with this broad brim'd hat,
Of the last progresse block, with the young hat-band,
Made for a sucking Devill of two yeare old,
I know not where to turne my selfe.
Mir,
Sir?
Cun.
More torture?
Mir.
'Tis rumor'd that you love me.
Cun.
A my troth Gentlewoman,
Rumour's as false a knave as ever pist then,
Pray tell him so from me; I cannot faine
With a sweet Gentlewoman, I must deale downe right.
Mir.
I heard, though you dissembled with my Aunt, Sir,
And that makes me more confident.
Cun.
There's no falshood,
But paies us our owne some way, I confesse
I fain'd with her, 'twas for a weightier purpose,
But not with thee, I sweare.
Mir.
Nor I with you then,
Although my Aunt enjoyn'd me to dissemble,
To right her splene, I love you faithfully.
Cun.
Light, this is worse then 'twas.
Mir.
I finde such worth in you,
I cannot, nay I dare not dally with you,
For feare the flame consume me.
Cun.
Here's fresh trouble,
This drives me to my conscience, for 'tis fowle
To injure one that deales directly with me.
Mir.
I crave but such a truth from your love, Sir,
As mine brings you, and that's proportionable.
Cun.
A good Geometrician, shrew my heart;
Why are you out a' your wits, pretty plumpe Gentlewoman,
You talk so desperately? 'tis a great happinesse,
Love has made one on's wiser then another,
We should be both cast away else;
Yet I love gratitude, I must requite you,
I shall be sick else, but to give you me,
A thing you must not take, if you meane to live,
For a' my troth I hardly can my selfe;
No wise Physitian will prescribe me for you.
Alas your state is weake, you had need of Cordials
Some rich Electuary, made of a Sonne an Heire,
An elder brother in a Cullisse, whole,
'T must be some wealthy Gregory, boyl'd to a Jelly,
That must restore you to the state of new Gownes,
French Ruffs, and mutable head tires,
Mir.
But where is he, Sir?
One that's so rich will ne're wed me with nothing.
Cun.
Then see thy conscience and thy wit together,
Wouldst thou have me then, that has nothing neither?
What say you to Fop Gregory the first yonder?
Will you acknowledge your time amply recompenc'd?
Full satisfaction upon loves record?
Without any more suit, if I combine you?
Mir.
Yes, by this honest kisse.
Cun.
You'r a wise Clyent,
To pay your fee before hand, but all do so,
You know the worst already, that's thee best too.
Mir.
I know he's a foole,
Cun.
You'r shrewdly hurt then;
This is your comfort, your great wisest women
Pick their first husband still out of that house,
And some will have 'em to chuse, if they bury 20.
Mir.
I'me of their mindes, that like him for a first husband,
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But when I'me old, I'de alwaies wish a wiser.
You may have me by that time; for this first businesse,
Rest upon my performance.
Mir.
With all thankfulnesse.
Cun.
I have a project you must aid me in too.
Mir.
You binde me to all lawfull action, Sir,
Pray weare this scarfe about you;
I conjecture now—
Cun.
There's a Court principle for't, one office must help another;
As for example, for your cast a Manchits out a'th Pantry,
Ile allow you a Goose out a'th Kitchin.
Mir.
'Tis very sociably done, Sir, farewell performance,
I shall be bold to call you so.
Cun.
Do, sweet confidence,
Enter Sir Gregory.
If I can match my two broad brim'd hats;
'Tis he, I know the Maggot by his head;
Now shall I learne newes of him, my pretious chiefe.
Sir Greg.
I have been seeking for you i'th bowling Greene,
Enquir'd at Nettletons, and Anthonies Ordinary,
T'ha's vext me to the heart, looke, I've a Diamond here,
And it cannot finde a Master.
Cun.
No? That's hard y'faith.
Sir Greg.
It does belong to some body, a—on him,
I would he had it, do's but trouble me,
And she that sent it, is so waspish too,
There's no returning to her till't be gone.
Cun.
Oh, ho, ah sirrah, are you come?
Sir Greg.
What's that friend?
Cun.
Do you note that corner sparkle?
Sir Greg.
Which? which? which Sir?
Cun.
At the West end a'the Coller.
Sir Greg.
Oh I see't now.
Cun.
'Tis an apparent marke; this is the stone, Sir,
That so much blood is threatned to be shed for.
Sir Greg.
I pray?
Cun.
A tunne at least.
Sir Greg.
They must not find't I'me then, they must
Go where 'tis to be had.
Cun.
'Tis well it came to my hands first, Sir Gregory,
I know where this must go.
Sir Greg.
Am I discharg'd on't?
Cun.
My life for yours now.
Drawes.
Sir Greg.
What now?
Cun.
'Tis discretion, Sir,
Ile stand upon my Guard all the while I ha't.
Sir Greg.
'Troth thou tak'st too much danger on thee still,
To preserve me alive.
Cun.
'Tis a friends duty, Sir,
Nay, by a toy that I have late thought upon,
Ile undertake to get your Mistris for you.
Sir Greg.
Thou wilt not? wilt?
Cun.
Contract her by a trick, Sir,
When she least thinks on't.
Sir Greg.
There's the right way to't,
For if she thinke on't once, shee'l never do't.
Cun.
She doe's abuse you still then?
Sir Greg.
A—damnably,
Every time worse then other; yet her Uncle
Thinks the day holds a tuesday; say it did, Sir,
She's so familiarly us'd to call me rascall,
She'l quite forget to wed me by my owne name,
And then that marriage cannot hold in Law, you know.
Cun.
Will you leave all to me?
Sir Greg.
Who should I leave it to?
Cun.
'Tis our luck to love Neeces; I love a Neece too.
Sir Greg.
I would you did y'faith.
Cun.
But mine's a kinde wretch.
Sir Greg.
I marry Sir, I would mine were so too.
Cun.
No rascall comes in her mouth.
Sir Greg.
Troth, and mine has little else in hers.
Cun.
Mine sends me tokens,
All the world knows not on.
Sir Greg.
Mine gives me tokens too, very fine tokens,
But I dare not weare 'em.
Cun.
Mine's kinde in secret.
Sir Greg.
And there's mine's a hell-cat.
Cun.
We have a day set too.
Sir Greg.
'Slid, so have we man,
But there's no signe of ever comming together.
Cun.
Tell thee who 'tis, the old womans Neece.
Sir Greg.
Is't she?
Cun.
I would your luck had been no worse for mildnesse;
But mum, no more words on't to your Lady.
Sir Greg.
Foh!
Cun.
No blabbing as you love me.
Sir Greg.
None of our blood
Were ever bablers.
Cun.
Prethee convey this Letter to her,
But at any hand let not your Mistris see't.
Sir Greg.
Yet agen Sir?
Cun.
There's a Jewell in't,
The very art would make her doat upon't.
Sir Greg.
Say you so?
And she shall see't for that trick onely.
Cun.
Remember but your Mistris, and all's well.
Sir Greg.
Nay if I do not hang me.
Exit.
Cun.
I believe you;
This is the onely way to returne a token,
I know he will do't now, cause he's charg'd to'th contrary.
He's the nearest kin to a woman, of a thing
Made without substance, that a man can finde agen,
Some petticoat begot him, Ile be whipt else,
Engendring with an old paire of pawnde hose,
Lying in some hot chamber o're the Kitchin,
Very steame bred him,
He never came where Rem in Re e're grew;
The generation of a hundred such
Cannot make a man stand in a white sheet,
For 'tis no act in Law, nor can a Constable
Pick out a bawdy businesse for Bridewell in't;
Enter Clowne (as a Gallant.)
A lamentable case, he's got with a mans Urine, like a Mandrake.
How now? hah? what prodigious bravery's this?
A most preposterous Gallant, the Doublet sits
As if it mockt the breeches.
Clow.
Save you, Sir,
Cun.
Has put his tongue in the fine suit of words too.
Clow.
How doe's the party?
Cun.
Takes me for a Scrivener. Which of the parties?
Clow.
Hum, simplicity betide thee—
I would faine heare of the party; I would be loath to go
Further with her; honour is not a thing to be dallied withall,
No more is reputation, no nor fame, I take it, I must not
Have her wrong'd when I'me abroad, my party is not
To be compell'd with any party in an oblique way;
'Tis very dangerous to deale with women;
May prove a Lady too, but shall be namelesse,
85
Cun.
Upon my life I know her.
Clow.
Not by me,
Know what you can, talke a whole day with me,
Y'are ne're the wiser, she comes not from these lips.
Cun.
The old Knights Neece.
Clow.
'Slid he has got her, pox of his heart that told him,
Can nothing be kept secret? let me entreat you
To use her name as little as you can, though.
Cun.
'Twill be small pleasure, Sir, to use her name.
Clow.
I had intelligence in my solemne walks,
'Twixt Paddington and Pancridge, of a Scarfe,
Sent for a token, and a Jewell follow'd,
But I acknowledge not the receipt of any,
How e're 'tis carried, believe me Sir,
Upon my reputation I received none.
Cun.
What, neither Scarfe nor Jewell?
Clow.
'Twould be seene
Some where about me, you may well think that,
I have an arme for a Scarfe, as others have,
And dare to hang a Jewell too, and that's more
Then some men have, my betters a great deale,
I must have restitution, where e're it lights.
Cun.
And reason good.
Clow.
For all these tokens, Sir,
Passe i' my name.
Cun.
It cannot otherwise be.
Clow.
Sent to a worthy friend.
Cun.
I, that's to thee.
Clow.
I'me wrong'd under that title.
Cun.
I dare sweare thou art,
'Tis nothing but Sir Gregories circumvention,
His envious spite, when thou'rt at Paddington,
He meets the gifts at Pancridge.
Clow.
Ah false Knight?
False both to honour, and the Law of Arms?
Cun.
What wilt thou say if I be reveng'd for thee?
Thou sit as witnesse?
Clow.
I should laugh in state then.
Cun.
Ile fobb him, here's my hand.
Clow.
I should be as glad as any man alive, to see him
well fob'd, Sir; but now you talk of fobbing, I wonder
the Lady sends not for me according to promise? I ha'
kept out a Towne these two daies, a purpose to be sent for;
I am almost starv'd with walking.
Cun.
Walking gets men a stomack.
Clow.
'Tis most true, Sir, I may speake it by experience,
for I ha' got a stomack six times, and lost it agen, as often
as a traveller from Chelsy shall lose the sight of Pauls, and
get it agen.
Cun.
Go to her, man.
Clow.
Not for a Million, enfringe my oath? there's a
toy call'd a vowe, has past betweene us, a poore trifle, Sir;
Pray do me the part and office of a Gentleman, if you
chance to meet a Footman by the way, in orange tawny
ribbands, running before an empty Coach, with a Buzzard
i'th Poope on't, direct him and his horses toward the new
River by Islington, there they shall have me looking upon
the Pipes, and whistling.
Cun.
A very good note; this love makes us all Monkeyes,
But to my work: Scarfe first? and now a Diamond? these
Should be sure signes of her affections truth;
Yet Ile go forward with my surer proofe.
Exit.
Enter Neece, and Sir Gregory.
Sir Greg.
Is't possible?
Nay here's his Letter too, there's a fine Jewell in't,
Therefore I brought it to you.
Neece.
You tedious Mongrill! Is't not enough
To grace thee, to receive this from thy hand;
A thing which makes me almost sick to do,
But you must talke too?
Sir Greg.
I ha' done.
Neece.
Fall back,
Yet backer, backer yet, you unmannerly puppy,
Do you not see I'me going about to reade it?
Sir Greg.
Nay these are golden daies, now I stay by't,
She was wont not to endure me in her sight at all,
The world mends, I see that.
Neece.
What an ambiguous Superscription's here?
To the best of Neeces. Why that title may be mine,
And more then her's:
Sure I much wrong the neatnesse of his art;
'Tis certaine sent to me, and to requite
My cunning in the carriage of my Tokens,
Us'd the same Fop for his.
Sir Greg.
She nodded now to me, 'twill come in time.
Neece.
What's here? an entire Rubye, cut into a heart,
And this the word, Istud Amoris opus?
Sir Greg.
Yes, yes, I have heard him say that love is the best stone-cutter.
Neece.
Why thou sawcy issue of some travelling Sowgelder,
What makes love? thy mouth? is it a thing
That ever will concerne thee? I do wonder
How thou dar'st think ont? hast thou ever hope
To come i' the same roome where lovers are;
And scape unbrain'd with one of their velvet slippers?
Sir Greg.
Love tricks breake out I see, and you talk of slippers once,
'Tis not farre off to bed time.
Neece.
Is it possible thou canst laugh yet?
I would ha' undertooke to ha' kill'd a spider
With lesse venome far, then I have spit at thee.
Sir Greg.
You must conceive,
A Knight's another manner a peece of flesh.
Neece.
Back, Owles face.
Within O. K.
Do, do.
Neece.
'Tis my Uncles voyce, that:
Why keep you so farre off, Sir Gregory?
Are you afraid, Sir, to come neare your Mistris?
Sir Greg.
Is the proud heart come downe? I lookt for this still.
Nee.
He comes not this way yet: Away, you dog-whelp,
Would you offer to come neare me, though I said so?
Ile make you understand my minde in time;
Your running greedily like a hound to his breakfast,
That chops in head and all to beguile his fellowes;
I'me to be eaten, Sir, with Grace and leisure,
Behaviour and discourse, things that ne're trouble you;
After I have pelted you sufficiently,
I tro you will learne more manners.
Sir Greg.
I'me wondring still when we two shall come together?
Tuesday's at hand, but I'me as farre off, as I was at first, I sweare.
Enter Gardianesse.
Gard.
Now Cuningame, Ile be reveng'd at large:
Lady, what was but all this while suspition,
Is truth, full blowne now, my Neece weares your Scarfe.
Neece.
Hah?
Gard.
Do but follow me, Ile place you instantly
Where you shall see her courted by Cuningame.
Neece.
I go with greedinesse; we long for things
That break our hearts sometimes, there's pleasures misery,
(Exeunt Neece and Gard.
Sir Greg.
Where are those gad-flies going? to some Junket now;
That some old humble-bee toles the yoūg one forth
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The thing you wot on, be not mist or gone,
I bring a Maiden-head, and I looke for one.
Exit.
Enter Cunningame (in discourse with a Mask't Gentlewoman in abroad hat and scarf'd,) Neece at another doore.
Cun.
Yes, yes.
Neece.
Too manifest now, the Scarfe and all.
Cun.
It cannot be, you're such a fearefull soule.
Neece.
Ile give her cause of feare e're I part from her.
Cun.
Will you say so? Is't not your Aunts desire too?
Neece.
What a dissembling groane's that? shee'l forswear't now.
Cun.
I see my project takes, yonder's the grace on't.
Neece.
Who would put confidence in wit againe,
I'me plagu'd for my ambition, to desire
A wise man for a husband, and I see
Fate will not have us go beyond our stint,
We are allow'd but one dish, and that's Woodcock,
It keeps up wit to make us friends and servants of,
And thinks any thing's good enough to make us husbands
Oh that whores hat a' thine, a' the riding block,
A shade for lecherous kisses.
Cun.
Make you doubt on't?
Is not my love of force?
Neece.
Yes, me it forces
To teare that forcerous strumpet from th'Imbraces.
Cun.
Lady?
Neece.
Oh thou hast wrong'd the exquisit'st love—
Cun.
What meane you Lady?
Neece.
Mine, you'l answer for't.
Cun.
Alas, what seek you?
Neece.
Sir, mine owne with losse.
Cun.
You shall.
Neece.
I never made so hard a bargaine.
Cun.
Sweet Lady?
Neece.
Unjust man, let my wrath reach her,
As you owe vertue duty; your cause trips you,
Now Minion, you shall feele what loves rage is,
Before you taste the pleasure; smile you false, Sir?
Cun.
How can I chuse? to see what paines you take,
Upon a thing will never thank you for't?
Neece.
How?
Cun.
See what things you women be, Lady,
When cloathes are taken for the best part of you?
This was to show you, when you think I love you not,
How y'are deceiv'd still, there the Morall lyes,
'Twas a trap set to catch you, and the only bait
To take a Lady nibling, is fine clothes;
Now I dare boldly thank you for your love,
I'me pretty well resolv'd in't by this fit,
For a jealous ague alwaies ushers it.
Neece.
Now blessings still maintaine this wit of thine,
And I'me an excellent fortune comming in thee,
Bring nothing else I charge thee.
Cun.
Not a groat I warrant ye.
Neece.
Thou shalt be worthily welcome, take my faith for't,
Next opportunity shall make us.
Cun.
The old Gentlewoman has fool'd her revenge sweetly.
Neece.
Lasse 'tis her part, she knowes her place so well yonder;
Alwaies when women jumpe upon three score,
Love shoves 'em from the chamber to the doore.
Cun.
Thou art a precious she-wit.
Exeunt.
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