 | The citye match |  |
57
Scena. V.
To him Sea-thrift. Ms Sea-thrift Ms Holland. Ms Scruple.Ms Sea.
Much joy to you, Sir, you have made quick dispatch
I like a man that can love, wooe, & wed,
All in an houre, my husband was so long
A getting me, so many friends consents
Were to be askt, that when we came to Church
Twas not a Marriage, but our times were out,
And we were there made free of one another.
Ms Holl.
I lookt to find you abed, and a young Sheriffe
Begot by this. My husband, when I came
From Church, by this time had his Cawdle; I
Had not a Garter left, nor he a point.
Ms Scru.
Surely all that my husband did the first
Night we were married, was to call for one
Of his wrought Caps more, to allay his Rheume.
Ms Holl.
We heare y'haue matcht a Courtier, Sir, a Gallant;
One that can spring fire in your Bloud, and dart
Fresh flames into you.
Ms Sea.
Sir, you are not merry.
Me thinks you doe not look as you were married.
Ms Holl.
You rather look as you had lost your Love.
Ms Scru.
Or, else as if your Spouse Sir, had rebukt you
Sea.
How is it, Sir? you feel have brought along
My Fidlers with me; my Wife and Ms Holland
Are good winde Instruments. Tis enough for me
To put on sadnesse.
War.
You, Sir, have no cause.
Seath.
Not I? aske Ms Scruple. I have lost
My Daughter, Sir she's stolne. Then, Sir, I have
A spendthrift to my sonne.
Wareh.
These are felicities
Compard to me. You have not matcht a Whore, Sir,
Nor lost two ships at sea.
Sea.
Nor you, J hope.
VVar.
Truth is you are my friends. I am abus'd,
Grossely fetcht over. I have matcht a Stewes;
The notedst woman oth' Towne.
Ms Seath.
Indeed J heard
She was a Chamber-maid.
Ms Holl.
And they by their place,
Doe wait upon the Lady, but belong
58
Sea.
But is this true?
War.
Here was
My Nephew just now, and one Roseclap, who tell me
She has three Children living; one dapple grey,
Halfe Moore, halfe English. Knowes as many men
As she that sinnd by th'Calendar, and divided
The nights oth' yeare with severall men.
Sea.
Blesse me goodnesse!
War.
Then like a mad condemnd to all misfortunes,
J have estated her in all I have.
sea.
How?
War.
Under hand & seale, Sir, irrecoverably.
Enter Salewit.
| The citye match | |