University of Virginia Library

Sce. 7.

Enter Barbara.
Bar.
Truly my Lord, my husband has tane bread
And drunke upon't, that under heaven he thinkes,
You were the meanes to make me an honest woman,
Or (at the least) him a contented man.

Let.
Ha done, ha done.

Bar.
Yes, I beleeve you have done
And if your husband, Lady, be cur'd, as he should be;
And as all foolish jealous husbands ought to be,
I know what was done first, if my Lord tooke
That course with you as me—

Let.
Prithee why canst thou for?

Bar.
My Lord to tell you, (As the Doctor tels me)
The Bride and Bridegroome, Both, are comming on,
The sweetliest to their wits againe.

Let.
I told you.

Bar.
Now you are a happy man sir; and I hope a quiet man.

Ioy.
Full of content and joy.

Bar.
Content! So was my husband, when he knew
The worst he could by his wife. Now youle live quiet Lady.

Let.
Why flyest thou off, thus woman, from the subject
Thou wert upon?

Bar.
I beg your Honours pardon.
And now ile tell you. Be it by skill or chance,
Or both, was never such a Cure, as is
Vpon that couple: now they strive which most
Shall love the other.

Let.
Are they up, and ready?

Bar.
Vp! up, and ready to lye downe againe:
There is no ho with them;
They have bin in th'Antipodes to some purpose;
And, now, are risen, and return'd themselves:
He's her deare Per, and she is his sweet Mat.
His Kingship and her Queenship are forgotten.
And all their melancholly and his Travailes past,
And but suppos'd their dreams.

Let.
Tis excellent.

Bar.
Now sir, the Doctor, (for he is become
An utter stranger to your sonne; and so
Are all about em) craves your presence,
And such as he's acquainted with.

Let.
Go sir.
And go you daughter.

Bar.

Daughter! that's the true trick
of all old whore-masters, to call their wenches daughters.

Let.

Has he knowne you friend Trulock too?

Tru.

Yes from his child-hood.

Let.

Go, then, and possesse him
(Now, he is sensible) how things have gone; what Arte, what
meanes, what friends have bin imploy'd in his rare cure; and
win him, by degrees, to Sense of where he is; bring him to me;
and I have yet an entertainment for him,

Of better Settle-braine, then Drunkards porridge,
To set him right. As I am true Letoy,
I have one Toy left. Go, and go you, why stayst thou?

Exe. Ioy.
Bar.
If I had beene a Gentle-woman borne,
I should have bin your daughter too my Lord.

Let.
But never as she is.
You'le know anon.

Bar.
Neat city-wives flesh, yet may be as good,
As your course countrey gentlewomans blood.
Exit Bar.

Let.
Goe with thy flesh to Turn-bull shambles? Hoe
Within there.