been drain'd so dry?
_Miss._ Well, I have often thought old Folks Fools, and now I'm sure
they are so; I have found a way myself to secure us all.
_Nurse._ Dear Lady, what's that?
_Miss._ Why, if you two will be sure to hold your Tongues, and not say
a word of what's past, I'll e'en marry this Lord too.
_Nurse._ What! two Husbands, my Dear?
_Miss._ Why you had three, good Nurse, you may hold your Tongue.
_Nurse._ Ay, but not all together, sweet Child.
_Miss._ Psha, if you had, you'd ne'er thought much on't.
_Nurse._ O but 'tis a Sin--Sweeting.
_Bull._ Nay, that's my business to speak to, Nurse. I do confess, to
take two Husbands for the Satisfaction of the Flesh, is to commit the
Sin of Exorbitancy; but to do it for the Peace of the Spirit, is no
more than to be drunk by way of Physick: Besides, to prevent a Parent's
Wrath, is to avoid the Sin of Disobedience; for when the Parent's angry
the Child is froward. So that upon the whole Matter, I do think, tho'
Miss shou'd marry again, she may be sav'd.
_Miss._ I'cod, and I will marry again then, and so there is an end of
the Story.
[_Exeunt._
[Illustration]
+ACT+ V. +SCENE+ _London_.
_Enter ~Coupler~, ~Young Fashion~, and ~Lory~._
_Coup._ Well, and so Sir _John_ coming in--
_Young Fash._ And so Sir _John_ coming in, I thought it might be
Manners in me to go out, which I did, and getting on Horseback as fast
as I cou'd, rid away as if the Devil had been at the Rear of me; what
has happen'd since, Heav'n knows.
_Coup._ I'gad, Sirrah, I know as well as Heaven.
_Young Fash._ What do you know?
_Coup._ That you are a Cuckold.
_Young Fash._ The Devil I am! By who?
_Coup._ By your Brother.
_Young Fash._ My Brother! which way?
_Coup._ The old way, he has lain with your Wife.
_Young Fash._ Hell and Furies, what dost thou mean?
_Coup._ I mean plainly, I speak no Parable.
_Young Fash._ Plainly! Thou dost not speak common Sense, I cannot
understand one Word thou sayst.
_Coup._ You will do soon, Youngster. In short, you left your Wife a
Widow, and she married again.
_Young Fash._ It's a Lye.
_Coup._----I'cod, if I were a young Fellow, I'd break your Head, Sirrah.
_Young Fash._ Dear Dad, don't be angry, for I'm as mad as _Tom ~of~
Bedlam_.
_Coup._ When I had fitted you with a Wife, you shou'd have kept her.
_Young Fash._ But is it possible the young Strumpet cou'd play such a
Trick?
_Coup._ A young Strumpet, Sir----can play twenty Tricks.
_Young Fash._ But pr'ythee instruct me a little farther; whence comes
thy Intelligence!
_Coup._ From your Brother, in this Letter; there, you may read it.
[_~Young Fashion~ reads._
Dear _Coupler_,
[Pulling off his Hat,] _I Have only time to tell thee in three Lines,
or thereabouts, that here has been the Devil! That Rascal ~Tam~,
having stole the Letter thou hadst formerly writ for me to bring to
Sir ~Tunbelly~, form'd a damnable Design upon my Mistress, and was in
a fair way of Success when I arriv'd. But after having suffer'd some
Indignities (in which I have all daub'd my embroider'd Coat) I put him
to flight. I sent out a Party of Horse after him, in hopes to have made
him my Prisoner, which if I had done, I would have qualified him for
the Seraglio, stap my Vitals. The Danger I have thus narrowly 'scap'd,
has made me fortify myself against further Attempts, by entering
immediately into an Association with the young Lady, by which we engage
to stand by one another, as long as we both shall live. In short, the
Papers are seal'd, and the Contract is sign'd, so the Business of the
Lawyer is ~achevé~; but I defer the divine part of the thing till I
arrive at ~London~, not being willing to consummate in any other Bed
but my own._
Postscript,
_'Tis possible I may be in the Tawn as soon as this Letter; for I find
the Lady is so violently in love with me, I have determin'd to make her
happy with all the Dispatch that is practicable, without disardering my
Coach Harses._
So, here's rare Work, I'faith!
_Lo._ I'gad, Miss _Hoyden_ has laid about her bravely.
_Coup._ I think my Country-Girl has play'd her part, as well as if she
had been born and bred in St. _James_'s Parish.
_Young Fash._----That Rogue the Chaplain.
_Lo._ And then that Jade the Nurse, Sir.
_Young Fash._ And then that drunken Sot, _Lory_, Sir; that cou'd not
keep himself sober to be a Witness to the Marriage.
_Lo._ Sir----with respect----I know very few drunken Sots that do keep
themselves sober.
_Young Fash._ Hold your prating, Sirrah, or I'll break your Head; dear
_Coupler_, what's to be done?
_Coup._ Nothing's to be done till the Bride and Bridegroom come to Town.
_Young Fash._ Bride and Bridegroom! Death and Furies! I can't bear that
thou shouldst call them so.
_Coup._ Why, what shall I call them, Dog and Cat?
_Young Fash._ Not for the World, that sounds more like Man and Wife
than t'other.
_Coup._ Well, if you'll hear of them in no Language, we'll leave them
for the Nurse and the Chaplain.
_Young Fash._ The Devil and the Witch.
_Coup._ When they come to Town----
_Lo._ We shall have stormy Weather.
_Coup._ Will you hold your tongues, Gentlemen, or not?
_Lo._ Mum.
_Coup._ I say when they, come, we must find what Stuff they are made
of, whether the Churchman be chiefly compos'd of the Flesh, or the
Spirit; I presume the former----For as Chaplains now go, 'tis probable
he eats three Pound of Beef to the reading one Chapter----This gives
him carnal Desires, he wants Money, Preferment, Wine, a Whore;
therefore we must invite him to Supper, give him fat Capons, Sack and
Sugar, a Purse of Gold, and a Plump Sister. Let this be done, and I'll
warrant thee, my Boy, he speaks Truth like an Oracle.
_Young Fash._ Thou art a profound Statesman, I allow it; but how shall
we gain the Nurse?
_Coup._ O never fear the Nurse, if once you have got the Priest, for
the Devil always rides the Hag. Well, there's nothing more to be said
of the Matter at this time, that I know of; so let us go and enquire,
if there's any News of our People yet, perhaps they may be come. But
let me tell you one thing by the way, Sirrah, I doubt you have been an
idle Fellow; if thou hadst behav'd thyself as thou shoud'st have done,
the Girl wou'd never have left thee.
[_Exeunt._
+SCENE+, _~Berinthia~'s Apartment._
_Enter her ~Maid~, passing the Stage, follow'd by ~Worthy~._
_Wor._ Hem, Mrs. _Abigail_, is your Mistress to be spoken with?
_Ab._ By you, Sir, I believe she may.
_Wor._ Why 'tis by me I wou'd have her spoken with.
_Ab._ I'll acquaint her, Sir.
[_Exit ~Ab~._
_~Worthy~ solus._
One Lift more I must persuade her to give me, and then I'm mounted.
Well, a young Bawd, and a handsome one for my Money, 'tis they do the
Execution; I'll never go to an old one, but when I have occasion for a
Witch. Lewdness looks heavenly to a Woman, when an Angel appears in its
Cause; but when a Hag is Advocate, she thinks it comes from the Devil.
An old Woman has something so terrible in her Looks, that whilst she is
persuading your Mistress to forget she has a Soul, she stares Hell and
Damnation full in her Face.
_Enter ~Berinthia~._
_Ber._ Well, Sir, what News bring you?
_Wor._ No News, Madam, there's a Woman going to cuckold her Husband.
_Ber._ _Amanda_?
_Wor._ I hope so.
_Ber._ Speed her well.
_Wor._ Ay, but there must be a more than a God-speed, or your Charity
won't be worth a Farthing.
_Ber._ Why, han't I done enough already?
_Wor._ Not quite.
_Ber._ What's the matter?
_Wor._ The Lady has a Scruple still which you must remove.
_Ber._ What's that?
_Wor._ Her Virtue----she says.
_Ber._ And do you believe her?
_Wor._ No, but I believe it's what she takes for her Virtue; it's some
Relicks of lawful Love: she is not yet fully satisfy'd her Husband has
got another Mistress, which unless I can convince her of, I have opened
the Trenches in vain; for the Breach must be wider, before I dare storm
the Town.
_Ber._ And so I'm to be your Engineer!
_Wor._ I'm sure you know best how to manage the Battery.
_Ber._ What think you of springing a Mine? I have a Thought just now
come into my Head, how to blow her up at once.
_Wor._ That would be a Thought, indeed!
_Ber._----Faith, I'll do't, and thus the Execution of it shall be. We
are all invited to my Lord _Foppington_'s to-night to Supper, he's
come to Town with his Bride, and maketh a Ball, with an Entertainment
of Musick. Now you must know, my Undoer here, _Loveless_, says he
must needs meet me about some private Business (I don't know what
'tis) before we go to the Company. To which end he has told his Wife
one Lye, and I have told her another. But to make her amends, I'll go
immediately, and tell her a solemn Truth.
_Wor._ What's that?
_Ber._ Why, I'll tell her, that to my certain Knowledge her Husband
has a Rendezvous with his Mistress this Afternoon; and that if she'll
give me her Word, she will be satisfy'd with the Discovery, without
making any violent Inquiry after the Woman, I'll direct her to a Place,
where she shall see them meet.--Now, Friend, this I fancy may help you
to a critical Minute. For home she must go again to dress. You, with
your good-breeding, come to wait upon us to the Ball, find her all
alone, her Spirit enflam'd against her Husband for his Treason, and her
Flesh in a Heat from some Contemplations upon the Treachery, her Blood
on a Fire, her Conscience in ice; a Lover to draw, and the Devil to
drive----Ah, poor _Amanda_!
_Wor._ [_Kneeling._] Thou Angel of Light, let me fall down and adore
thee!
_Ber._ Thou Minister of Darkness, get up again, for I hate to see the
Devil at his Devotions.
_Wor._ Well, my incomparable _Berinthia_----How shall I requite you----
_Ber._ O ne'er trouble yourself about that: Virtue is its own Reward:
There's a Pleasure in doing good, which sufficiently pays itself. Adieu.
_Wor._ Farewel, thou best of Women.
[_Exeunt several ways._
_Enter ~Amanda~, meeting ~Berinthia~._
_Aman._ Who was that went from you?
_Ber._ A Friend of yours.
_Aman._ What does he want?
_Ber._ Something you might spare him, and be ne'er the poorer.
_Aman._ I can spare him nothing but my Friendship; my Love already's
all dispos'd of: Tho', I confess, to one ungrateful to my Bounty.
_Ber._ Why there's the Mystery! You have been so bountiful, you have
cloy'd him. Fond Wives do by their Husbands, as barren Wives do by
their Lap-Dogs; cram them with Sweetmeats till they spoil their
Stomachs.
_Aman._ Alas! Had you but seen how passionately fond he has been since
our last Reconciliation, you wou'd have thought it were impossible he
ever should have breath'd an Hour without me.
_Ber._ Ay but there you thought wrong again, _Amanda_; you shou'd
consider, that in Matters of Love Men's Eyes are always bigger than
their Bellies. They have violent Appetites, 'tis true, but they have
soon din'd.
_Aman._ Well; there's nothing upon Earth astonishes me more than Men's
Inconstancy.
_Ber._ Now there's nothing upon Earth astonishes me less, when I
consider what they and we are compos'd of. For Nature has made them
Children, and us Babies. Now, _Amanda_, how we us'd our Babies, you may
remember. We were mad to have them, as soon as we saw them; kiss'd them
to pieces, as soon as we got them; then pull'd off their Clothes, saw
them naked, and so threw them away.
_Aman._ But do you think all Men are of this Temper?
_Ber._ All but one.
_Aman._ Who's that?
_Ber._ _Worthy_.
_Aman._ Why, he's weary of his Wife too, you see.
_Ber._ Ay, that's no Proof.
_Aman._ What can be a greater?
_Ber._ Being weary of his Mistress.
_Aman._ Don't you think 'twere possible he might give you that too?
_Ber._ Perhaps he might, if he were my Gallant; not if he were your's.
_Aman._ Why do you think he shou'd be more constant to me, than he
wou'd to you? I'm sure I'm not so handsome.
_Ber._ Kissing goes by Favour; he likes you best.
_Aman._ Suppose he does; That's no Demonstration he wou'd be constant
to me.
_Ber._ No, that I'll grant you: But there are other Reasons to expect
it; for you must know after all, _Amanda_, the Inconstancy we commonly
see in Men of Brains, does not so much proceed from the Uncertainty
of their Temper, as from the Misfortunes of their Love. A Man sees,
perhaps, an hundred Women he likes well enough for an Intrigue, and
away; but possibly, thro' the whole Course of his Life, does not find
above one, who is exactly what he could wish her: now her, 'tis a
thousand to one, he never gets. Either she is not to be had at all
(tho' that seldom happens, you'll say) or he wants those Opportunities
that are necessary to gain her; either she likes somebody else much
better than him, or uses him like a Dog, because he likes no body so
well as her. Still something or other Fate claps in the way between
them and the Woman they are capable of being fond of. And this makes
them wander about from Mistress to Mistress, like a Pilgrim from Town
to Town, who every Night must have a fresh lodging, and 's in haste to
be gone in the Morning.
_Aman._ Tis possible there may be something in what you say; but what
do you infer from it, as to the Man we were talking of?
_Ber._ Why, I infer, that you being the Woman in the World the most to
his Humour, 'tis not likely he would quit you for one that is less.
_Aman._ That is not to be depended upon, for you see Mr. _Loveless_
does so.
_Ber._ What does Mr. _Loveless_ do?
_Aman._ Why, he runs after something for Variety, I'm sure he does not
like so well as he does me.
_Ber._ That's more than you know, Madam.
_Aman._ No, I'm sure on't: I am not very vain, _Berinthia_; and yet
I'll lay my Life, if I could look into his Heart, he thinks I deserve
to be prefer'd to a thousand of her.
_Ber._ Don't be too positive in that neither: A Million to one, but she
has the same Opinion of you. What wou'd you give to see her?
_Aman._ Hang her, dirty Trull; tho' I really believe she's so ugly,
she'd cure me of my Jealousy.
_Ber._ All the Men of Sense about Town say she's handsome.
_Aman._ They are as often out in those things as any People.
_Ber._ Then I'll give you further Proof----all the Women about Town
say, she's a Fool: Now I hope you are convinc'd?
_Aman._ Whate'er she be, I'm satisfy'd he does not like her well enough
to bestow any thing more than a little outward Gallantry upon her.
_Ber._ Outward Gallantry!----[_Aside._] I can't bear this. [_To
Aman._] Don't you think she's a Woman to be fobb'd off so. Come, I'm
too much your Friend, to suffer you should be thus grossly impos'd
upon, by a Man who does not deserve the least part about you, unless
he knew how to set a greater Value upon it. Therefore in one word, to
my certain knowledge, he is to meet her now, within a quarter of an
Hour, somewhere about that _Babylon_ of Wickedness, _Whitehall_. And if
you'll give me your Word that you'll be content with seeing her mask'd
in his Hand, without pulling her Headclothes off, I'll step immediately
to the Person, from whom I have my Intelligence, and send you word
whereabouts you may stand to see 'em meet. My Friend and I'll watch 'em
from another place, and dodge 'em to their private Lodging: But don't
you offer to follow 'em, lest you do it awkwardly, and spoil all. I'll
come home to you again, as soon as I have earth'd 'em, and give you an
account in what corner of the House the Scene of their Lewdness lies.
_Aman._ If you can do this, _Berinthia_, he's a Villain.
_Ber._ I can't help that, Men will be so.
_Aman._ Well! I'll follow your Directions; for I shall never rest till
I know the worst of this matter.
_Ber._ Pray, go immediately, and get yourself ready then. Put on some
of your Woman's Clothes, a great Scarf and a Mask, and you shall
presently receive Orders. [_Calls within._] Here, who's there? get me a
Chair quickly.
_Serv._ There are Chairs at the Door, Madam.
_Ber._ 'Tis well, I'm coming.
_Aman._ But pray, _Berinthia_, before you go, tell me how I may know
this filthy Thing, if she would be so forward (as I suppose she will)
to come to the Rendezvous first; for, methinks, I would fain view her a
little.
_Ber._ Why, she's about my heighth; and very well shap'd.
_Aman._ I thought she had been a little crooked?
_Ber._ O no, she's as straight as I am. But we lose time, come away.
[_Exeunt._
_Enter ~Young Fashion~, meeting ~Lory~._
_Young Fash._ Well, will the Doctor come?
_Lo._ Sir, I sent a Porter to him as you order'd me. He found him with
a Pipe of Tobacco and a great Tankard of Ale, which he said he wou'd
dispatch while I cou'd tell three, and be here.
_Young Fash._ He does not suspect 'twas I that sent for him?
_Lo._ Not a Jot, Sir, he divines as little for himself, as he does for
other Folks.
_Young Fash._ Will he bring Nurse with him?
_Lo._ Yes.
_Young Fash._ That's well; where's _Coupler_?
_Lo._ He's half way up the Stairs taking Breath; he must play his
Bellows a little, before he can get to the top.
_Enter ~Coupler~._
_Young Fash._ O here he is. Well, old Phthisick, the Doctor's coming.
_Coup._ Wou'd the Pox had the Doctor----I'm quite out of Wind [_To
Lo._] Set me a Chair, Sirrah. Ah----[_Sits down._] [_To Young Fash._]
Why the Plague can'st not thou lodge upon the Ground-Floor?
_Young Fash._ Because I love to lie as near Heaven as I can.
_Coup._ Pr'ythee let Heaven alone; ne'er affect tending that way: Thy
Center's downwards.
_Young Fash_. That's impossible. I have too much ill Luck in this
World, to be damn'd in the next.
_Coup._ Thou art out in thy Logick. Thy Major is true, but thy Minor is
false; for thou art the luckiest Fellow in the Universe.
_Young Fash_. Make out that.
_Coup._ I'll do't: Last Night the Devil ran away with the Parson of
_Fat-goose_ Living.
_Young Fash._ If he had run away with the Parish too, what's that to me?
_Coup._ I'll tell thee what it's to thee. This Living is worth five
hundred Pound a-year, and the Presentation of it is thine, if thou
can'st prove thyself a lawful Husband to Miss _Hoyden_.
_Young Fash._ Say'st thou so, my Protector! then I'gad I shall have a
Brace of Evidences here presently.
_Coup._ The Nurse and the Doctor?
_Young Fash._ The same: The Devil himself won't have Interest enough to
make them withstand it.
_Coup._ That we shall see presently: Here they come.
_Enter ~Nurse~ and ~Chaplain~; they start back, seeing ~Young
Fashion~._
_Nurse._ Ah Goodness, _Roger_, we are betray'd.
_Young Fash._ [_Laying hold on them._] Nay, nay, ne'er flinch for the
matter; for I have you safe. Come to your Trials immediately; I have no
time to give you Copies of your Indictment. There sits your Judge.--
_Both kneeling._ Pray, Sir, have Compassion on us.
_Nurse._ I hope, Sir, my Years will move your Pity; I am an aged Woman.
_Coup._ That is a moving Argument, indeed!
_Coup._ [_To Bull._] Are not you a rogue of Sanctity?
_Bull._ Sir, with respect to my Function, I do wear a Gown. I hope,
Sir, my Character will be consider'd; I am Heaven's Ambassador.
_Coup._ Did not you marry this vigorous young Fellow to a plump young
buxom Wench?
_Nurse._ [_To Bull._] Don't confess, _Roger_, unless you are hard put
to it, indeed?
_Coup._ Come, out with't--Now is he chewing the Cud of his Roguery, and
grinding a Lye between his Teeth.
_Bull._ Sir,----I cannot positively say----I say, Sir----positively I
cannot say----
_Coup._ Come, no Equivocation, no Roman Turns upon us. Consider thou
stand'st upon Protestant Ground, which will slip from under thee like
a _Tyburn_ Car; for in this Country we have always ten Hangmen for one
Jesuit.
_Bull._ [_To Young Fash._] Pray, Sir, then will you but permit me to
speak one word in private with Nurse?
_Young Fash._ Thou art always for doing something in private with Nurse.
_Coup._ But pray let his Betters be serv'd before him for once. I would
do something in private with her myself; _Lory_, take care of this
Reverend Gownman in the next Room a little. Retire, Priest. [_Exit
~Lo~. with ~Bull~._]--Now, Virgin, I must put the matter home to you a
little: Do you think it might not be possible to make you speak Truth?
_Nurse._ Alas! Sir, I don't know what you mean by Truth.
_Coup._ Nay,'tis possible thou may'st be a Stranger to it.
_Young Fash._ Come, Nurse, you and I were better Friends when we saw
one another last; and I still believe you are a very good Woman in
the bottom. I did deceive you and your young Lady, 'tis true, but I
always design'd to make a very good Husband to her, and to be a very
good Friend to you. And 'tis possible in the end, she might have found
herself happier and you richer, than ever my Brother will make you.
_Nurse._ Brother! Why is your Worship then his Lordship's Brother!
_Young Fash._ I am; which you should have known, if I durst have staid
to have told you; but I was forc'd to take Horse a little in haste, you
know.
_Nurse._ You were, indeed, Sir: poor young Man, how he was bound to
scaure for't. Now won't your Worship be angry, if I confess the Truth
to you; when I found you were a Cheat (with respect be it spoken) I
verily believ'd Miss had got some pitiful Skip-Jack Varlet or other to
her Husband, or I had ne'er let her think of marrying again.
_Coup._ But where was your Conscience all this while, Woman? Did not
that stare you in the Face with huge Saucer-eyes, and a great Horn upon
the Forehead? Did not you think you should be damn'd for such a Sin? Ha!
_Young Fash._ Well said, Divinity, press that home upon her.
_Nurse._ Why, in good truly, Sir, I had some fearful Thoughts on't,
and cou'd never be brought to consent, till Mr. _Bull_ said it was a
_Peckadilla_, and he'd secure my Soul for a Tythe-Pig.
_Young Fash._ There was a Rogue for you.
_Coup._ And he shall thrive accordingly: He shall have a good Living.
Come, honest _Nurse_, I see you have Butter in your Compound; you can
melt. Some Compassion you can have of this handsome young Fellow.
_Nurse._ I have, indeed, Sir.
_Young Fash._ Why, then, I'll tell you what you shall do for me. You
know what a warm Living here is fallen; and that it must be in the
Disposal of him who has the Disposal of Miss. Now if you and the Doctor
will agree to prove my Marriage, I'll present him to it, upon condition
he makes you his Bride.
_Nurse._ Naw the Blessing of the Lord follow your good Worship both by
Night and by Day! Let him be fetch'd in by the Ears; I'll soon bring
his Nose to the Grindstone.
_Coup._ [_Aside._] Well said, old Whit-Leather. Hey; bring in the
Prisoner there.
_Enter ~Lory~ with ~Bull~._
_Coup._ Come, advance, holy Man! Here's your Duck does not think fit to
retire with you into the Chancel at this time; but she has a Proposal
to make to you in the Face of the Congregation. Come, _Nurse_, speak
for yourself; you are of Age.
_Nurse._ _Roger_, are not you a wicked Man, _Roger_, to set your
Strength against a weak Woman, and persuade her it was no Sin to
conceal Miss's Nuptials? My Conscience flies in my Face for it, thou
Priest of _Baal_; and I find by woful Experience, thy Absolution is not
worth an old Cassock: therefore I am resolved to confess the Truth to
the whole World, tho' I die a Beggar for it. But his Worship overflows
with his Mercy, and his Bounty: He is not only pleas'd to forgive us
our Sins, but designs thou sha't squat thee down in _Fat-goose_ Living;
and, which is more than all, has prevail'd with me to become the Wife
of thy Bosom.
_Young Fash._ All this I intend for you, Doctor. What you are to do for
me, I need not tell you.
_Bull._ Your Worship's Goodness is unspeakable: Yet there is one thing
seems a Point of Conscience; and Conscience is a tender Babe. If I
shou'd bind myself, for the sake of this Living, to marry _Nurse_, and
maintain her afterwards, I doubt it might be look'd on as a kind of
Simony.
_Coup._ [_Rising up._] If it were Sacrilege, the Living's worth it:
Therefore no more Words, good Doctor: but with the [_Giving ~Nurse~ to
him._] Parish----here----take the Parsonage-house. 'Tis true, 'tis a
little out of Repair; some Dilapidations there are to be made good; the
Windows are broke, the Wainscot is warp'd, the Ceilings are peel'd, and
the Walls are crack'd; but a little Glasing, Painting, White-wash, and
Plaster, will make it last thy time.
_Bull._ Well, Sir, if it must be so, I shan't contend: What Providence
orders, I submit to.
_Nurse._ And so do I, with all Humility.
_Coup._ Why, that now was spoke like good People. Come, my
Turtle-Doves, let us go help this poor Pigeon to his wandering Mate
again: and after Institution and Induction, you shall all go a-cooing
together.
[_Exeunt._
_Enter ~Amanda~, in a Scarf, &c. as just returned, her
Woman following her._