_Old K._ Oh Sir, you are well met, where's the Knight your
friend?
_Cun._ Sir, I think your Son has told you.
_Witty._ Shall I stand to tell't agen? I tell you he loves,
But not my Kinswoman, her base usage,
And your slack performance which he accuses most
Indeed, has turn'd the Knights heart upside down.
_Old K._ I'll curb her for't, can he be but recover'd,
He shall have her, and she shall be dutiful,
And love him as a Wife too.
_Witty._ With that condition, Sir,
I dare recall him [were] he enter'd the Church,
So much interest of love I assure in him.
_Old K._ Sir, it shall be no loss to you if you do.
_Witty._ I, but these are words still, will not the deeds
Be wanting at the recovery, if it should be agen?
_O[l]d K._ Why here fool, I am provided, five hunder'd in earnest,
Of the thousands in her Dower, but were they married once,
I'd cut him short enough, that's my agreement.
_Witty._ I, now I perceive some purpose in you, Father.
_Old K._ But wherefore is she then stol'n out of doors to him?
_Witty._ To him? oh fie upon your error, she has another
object, believe it, Sir.
_Old K._ I never could perceive it.
_Cun._ I did Sir, and to her shame I should speak it,
To my own sorrow I saw it, dalliance,
Nay, dotage with a very Clown, a Fool.
_Old K._ Wit and wantons? nothing else? nothing else?
She love a fool? she'll sooner make a Fool
Of a wise man.
_Cun._ I, my friend complains so,
Sir _Gregory_ says flatly, she makes a fool of him,
And these bold circumstances are approv'd:
Favours have been sent by him, yet he ignorant
Whither to carry 'em; they have been understood,
And taken from him, certain, Sir, there is
An unsuspected fellow lies conceal'd,
What, or where e'er he is, these slight neglects
Could not be of a Knight else.
_Old K._ Well Sir, you have promis'd (if we recover him
Unmarried) to salve all these old bruises?
_Cun._ I'll do my best, Sir.
_Old K._ I shall thank you, costly Sir, and kindly too.
_Witty._ Will you talk away the time here, Sir, and come
behind all your purposes?
_Old K._ Away good Sir.
_Witty._ Then stay a little, good Sir, for my advice,
Why, Father are you broke? your wit beggar'd,
Or are you at your wits end? or out of
Love with wit? no trick of wit to surprize
Those designs, but with open Hue and Cry,
For all the world to talk on, this is strange,
You were not wont to slubber a project so.
_Old K._ Can you help at a pinch now? shew your self
My Son, go too, I leave this to your wit,
Because I'll make a proof on't.
_Witty._ 'Tis thus then,
I have had late intelligence, they are now
Bucksom as _Bacchus_ Froes, revelling, dancing,
Telling the Musicks numbers with their feet,
Awaiting the meeting of p[re]monish'd friends,
That's questionless, little dreading you,
Now Sir, with a dexterous trick indeed, suddain
And sufficient were well, to enter on um
As something like the abstract of a Masque;
What though few persons? if best for our purpose
That commends the project.
_Old K._ This takes up time.
_Witty._ Not at all, I can presently furnish
With loose disguises that shall fit that Scene.
_Old K._ Why what wants then?
_Witty._ Nothing but charge of Musick,
That must be paid, you know.
_Old K._ That shall be my charges, I'll pay the Musick.
What e'er it cost.
_Witty._ And that shall be all your charge,
Now on, I like it, there will be wit in't Father.
[_Exit_ Old K. _and_ Witty.
_Cun._ I will neither distrust his wit nor friendship,
Yet if his Master brain should be o'er-thrown
My resolution now shall seize mine own. [_Exit._
_Enter_ Neece, _Lady_ Ruinous, Guardianess, Ruinous,
Priscian, (_with instruments masqu'd_.)
_L. Rui._ Nay, let's have Musick, let that sweet breath at least
Give us her airy welcome, 'twill be the best
I fear this ruin'd receptacle will yield,
But that most freely.
_Nee._ My welcome follows me,
Else I am ill, come hither, you assure me
Still Mr. _Cuningame_ will be here, and that it was
His kind entreaty that wish'd me meet him.
_L. Ruin._ Else let me be that shame unto my Sex,
That all belief may flie um.
_Nee._ Continue still
The Knights name unto my Guardianess,
She expects no other.
[_L]. Ruin._ He will, he will, assure you
Lady, _Sir Gregory_ will be here, and suddainly
This Musick fore-ran him, is't not so consorts?
_Ruin._ Yes Lady, he stays on some device to bring along
Such a labour he was busie in, some witty device.
_Nee._ 'T[w]ill be long e'r he comes then, for wits a great
Labour to him.
_Guard._ Well, well, you'll agree better one day.
_Nee._ Scarce two I think.
_Guard._ Such a mock-beggar suit of cloaths as led me
Into the fools pair-of-Dice, with Dewze Ace,
He that would make me Mistriss _Cun_, _Cun_, _Cunnie_,
He's quite out of my mind, but I shall ne'er
Forget him, while I have a hole in my head;
Such a one I think would please you better,
Though he did abuse you.
_Ruin._ Fye, speak well of him now,
Your Neece has quitted him.
_Guard._ I hope she has,
Else she loses me for ever; but for _Sir Gregory_.
Would he were come, I shall ill answer this
Unto your Uncle else.
_Nee._ You know 'tis his pleasure
I should keep him company.
_Guard._ I, and should be your own
If you did well too: Lord, I do wonder
At the niceness of you Ladies now a days,
They must have Husbands with so much wit forsooth.
Worship and wealth were both wont to be
In better request I'm sure, I cannot tell,
But they get ne'er the wiser children that I see.
_La. Ruin._ La, la, la, la, Sol, this Musick breaths in vain;
Methinks 'tis dull to let it move alone,
Let's have a female motion, 'tis in private,
And we'll grace't our selves, however it deserves.
_Nee._ What say you Guardianess?
_Guard._ 'Las I'm weary with the walk,
My jaunting days are done.
_L. Ru._ Come, come, we'll fetch her in by course, or else
She shall pay the Musick.
_Guard._ Nay, I'll have a little for my money then.
[_They Dance, a Cornet is winded._
_L. Ru._ Hark! upon my life the Knight; 'tis your friend,
This was the warning-piece of his approach.
_Enter_ Old Knight, Witty-pate, Cunningame,
_Masqu'd, and take them to Dance_.
_L. Ru._ Ha? no words but mum? well then,
We shall need no counsel-keeping.
_Nee. Cuningam?_
_Cun._ Yes, fear nothing.
_Nee._ Fear? why do you tell me of it?
_Cun._ Your Uncles here.
_Nee._ Aye me.
_Cun._ Peace.
_Old K._ We have caught 'em.
_Witty._ Thank my wit Father.
_Guard._ Which is the Knight think you?
_Nee._ I know not, he will be found when he speaks,
No Masque can disguise his tongue.
_Witty._ Are you charg'd?
_Old K._ Are you awake?
_Witty._ I'm answer'd in a question.
_Cun._ Next change we meet, we lose our hands no more.
_Nee._ Are you prepar'd to tye 'em?
_Cun._ Yes,
You must go with me.
_Guard._ Whither Sir? not from my charge believe me.
_Cun._ She goes along.
_Nee._ Will you venture and my Uncle here?
_Cun._ His stay's prepar'd for.
_Guard._ 'Tis the Knight sure, I'll follow.
[_Exit_ Cun. Nee. Guard.
_Old K._ How now, the Musick tir'd before us?
_Ruin._ Yes Sir, we must be paid now.
_Witty._ Oh that's my charge, Father.
_Old K._ But stay, where are our wanton Ladies gone?
Son, where are they?
_Witty._ Only chang'd the room in a change, that's all sure.
_Old K._ I'll make 'em all sure else, and then return to you.
_Ruin._ You must pay for your Musick first, Sir.
_Old K._ Must? are there musty Fidlers? are Beggars choosers now?
Ha! why _Witty-pate_, Son, where am I?
_Witty._ You were dancing e'en now, in good measure, Sir,
Is your health miscarried since? what ail you, Sir?
_Old K._ Death, I may be gull'd to my face, where's my Neece?
What are you?
_L. Ru._ None of your Neece, Sir.
_Old K._ How now? have you loud instruments too? I'll hear
No more, I thank you; what have I done to
To bring these fears about me? Son, where am I?
_Witty._ Not where you should be, Sir, you [should] be paying
For your Musick, and you are in a maze.
_Old K._ Oh, is't so, put up, put up, I pray you,
Here's a crown for you.
_L. Ruin._ Pish, a crown?
_Ruin. Pris._ Ha, ha, ha, a crown?
_Old K._ Which way do you laugh? I have seen a crown
Has made a Consort laugh heartily.
_Witty._ Father,
To tell you truth, these are no ordinary
Musicians, they expect a bounty
Above their punctual desert.
_Old K._ A ---- on your Punks, and their deserts too.
Am I not cheated all this while think you?
Is not your pate in this?
_Witty._ If you be cheated,
You are not to be indicted for your own goods,
Here you trifle time to market your bounty
And make it base, when it must needs be free
For ought I can perceive.
_Old K._ Will you know the lowest price, Sir?
_Witty._ That I will Sir, with all my heart.
_Old K._ Unless I was discover'd, and they now fled
Home agen for fear, I am absolutely beguil'd,
That's the best can be hop'd for.
_Witty._ Faith 'tis somewhat too dear yet, Gentlemen.
_Ruin._ There's not a Denier to be bated, Sir.
_Old K._ Now Sir, how dear is it?
_Witty._ Bate but the t'other ten pound?
_Pris._ Not a Bawbee, Sir.
_Old K._ How? bate ten pound? what's the whole sum then?
_Witty._ Faith Sir, a hundred pound, with much adoe,
I got fifty bated, and faith Father, to say truth,
'Tis reasonable for men of their fashion.
_Old K._ La, la, la, down, a hunder'd pound? la, la, la,
You are a Consort of Thieves, are you not?
_Witty._ No Musicians, Sir, I told you before.
_Old K._ Fiddle faddle, is it not a robbery? a plain robbery.
_Witty._ No, no, no, by no means Father, you have receiv'd
For your money, nay and that you cannot give back,
'Tis somewhat dear I confess, but who can help it?
If they had been agreed with before-hand,
'Twas ill forgotten.
_Old [K]._ And how many shares have you in this? I see my force,
Case up your instruments, I yield, here, as robb'd and
Taken from me, I deliver it.
_Witty._ No Sir, you have perform'd your promise now,
Which was, to pay the charge of Musick, that's all.
_Old K._ I have heard no Musick, I have receiv'd none, Sir,
There's none to be found in me, nor about me.
_Witty._ Why Sir, here's witness against you, you have danc'd,
And he that dances, acknowledges a receipt of Musick.
_Old K._ I denie that, Sir, look you, I can dance without
Musick, do you see, Sir? and I can sing without it too; you
are a Consort of Thieves, do you hear what I do?
_Witty._ Pray you take heed, Sir, if you do move the
Musick agen, it may cost you as much more.
_Old K._ Hold, hold, I'll depart quietly, I need not bid you
farewel, I think now, so long as that hundred [pound] lasts
with you.
_Enter Guardianess._
Ha, ha, am I snapt i'faith?
_Guar._ Oh, Sir, _Perfidious_.
_Old K._ I, I, some howling another while, Musick's too
damnable dear.
_Guard._ Oh Sir, my heart-strings are broke, if I can but live
to tell you the tale, I care not, your Neece my charge is--
_Old K._ What, is she sick?
_Guard._ No, no Sir, she's lustily well married.
_Old K._ To whom?
_Guard._ Oh, to that cunning dissembler, _Cuningam_.
_Old K._ I'll hang the Priest, first, what was he?
_Guard._ Your kinsman, Sir, that has the _Welch_ Benefice.
_Old K._ I sav'd him from the Gallows to that end, good:
is there any more?
_Guard._ And Sir _Gregory_ is married too.
_Old K._ To my Neece too, I hope, and then I may hang her.
_Guard._ No Sir, to my Neece, thank _Cupid_; and that's all
that's likely to recover me, she's Lady _Fop_ now, and I am One
of her Aunts, I thank my promotion.
_Enter_ Credulous, Cuningam, Neece, Sir Gregory,
_and_ Mirabel.
_Cred._ I have perform'd your be[he]st, Sir.
_Old K._ What have you perform'd, Sir?
_Witty._ Faith Sir I must excuse my Cosin in this act,
If you can excuse your self for making him
A Priest, there's the most difficult answer.
I put this practise on him, as from your desire,
A truth, a truth, Father.
_Cred._ I protest, Sir, he tells you truth, he mov'd me to't in
your nam[e].
_Old K._ I protest, Sir, he told you a lye in my name, and were
you so easie, Mr. _Credulous_, to believe him?
_Cred._ If a man should not believe his Cosin, Sir, whom should
he believe?
_Old K._ Good'en to you, good Mr. Cosin _Cuningam_,
And your fair Bride, my Cosin _Cuningam_ too,
And how do you Sir _Gregory_, with your fair Lady?
_Sir Greg._ A little better than you would have had me, I thank
you Sir, the days of Puppy, and Slave, and Rascal, are pretty
well blown over now, I know Crabs from Verjuyce, I have tryed
both, and thou'dst give me thy Neece for nothing, I'd not have
her.
_Cun._ I think so Sir _Gregory_, for my sake you would not.
_Sir Gr._ I wou'd thou hadst scap'd her too, and then she had
died of the Green sickness: know this, that I did marry in
spight, and I will kiss my Lady in spight, and love her in
spight, and beget children of her in spight, and when I dye,
they shall have my Lands in spight; this was my resolution, and
now 'tis out.
_Nee._ How spightful are you now, Sir _Gregory_!
Why look you, I can love my dearest Husband,
With all the honors, duties, sweet embraces,
That can be thrown upon a loving man.
_Sir Gr._----This is afore your Uncles face, but behind his
back, in private, you'll shew him another tale--
_Cun._ You see, Sir, now the irrecoverable state of all these
things before you: come out of your muse, they have been but
Wit-weapons, you were wont to love the Play.
_Enter Clown._
_Old K._ Let me alone in my muse a little, Sir, I will wake to
you anon.
_Cun._ U'd so, your friend _Pompey_, how will you answer him?
_Nee._ Very well, if you'll but second it, and help me.
_Clow._ I do hear strange stories, are Ladies things obnoxious?
_Nee._ Oh, the dissembling falsest wretch is come.
_Cun._ How now Lady?
_Nee._ Let me come to him, and instead of love
Let me have revenge.
_Witty._ Pray you now, will you first examine, whether he
be guilty or no.
_Nee._ He cannot be excus'd,
How many Messengers (thou perjur'd man)
Hast thou return'd with Vows and Oaths, that thou
Wouldst follow, and never till this unhappy hour
Could I set eye of thee, since thy false eye
Drew my heart to it? oh I could tear thee now,
Instead of soft embraces, pray give me leave--
_Witty._ Faith this was ill done of you Sir, if you promis'd
otherwise.
_Clow._ By this hand, never any Messenger came at me, since
the first time I came into her company; that a man should be
wrong'd thus!
_Nee._ Did not I send thee Scarfs and Diamonds?
And thou return'dst me Letters, one with a false heart in't.
_Witty._ Oh fie, to receive favours, return falshoods, and hold
a Lady in hand--
_Clow._ Will you believe me, Sir? if ever I receiv'd Diamonds,
or Scarf, or sent any Letter to her, would this sword might
ne'er go through me.
_Witty._ Some bad Messengers have gone between you then.
_Nee._ Take him from my sight if I shall see to morrow.
_Witty._ Pray you forbear the place, this discontent may impair
her health much.
_Clow._ 'Foot, if a man had been in any fault, 'twould ne'er a
griev'd him, Sir, if you'll believe.
_Witty._ Nay, nay, protest no more, I do believe you,
But you see how the Lady is wrong'd by't;
She has cast away her self, it is to be fear'd,
Against her Uncles Will, nay, any consent,
But out of a mere neglect, and spight to her self,
Married suddainly without any advice.
_Clow._ Why, who can help it? if she be cast away, she may
thank her self, she might have gone farther and far'd worse;
I could do no more than I could do: 'twas her own pleasure to
command me, that I should not come, till I was sent for, I had
been with her every minute of an hour else.
_Witty._ Truly I believe you.
_Clow._ Night and day she might have commanded me, and that she
knew well enough; I said as much to her between her and I; yet
I protest, she's as honest a Lady for my part, that I'd say, if
she would see me hang'd: if she be cast away I cannot help it,
she might have stay'd to have spoke with a man.
_Witty._ Well, 'twas a hard miss on both parts.
_Clow._ So 'twas, I was within one of her, for all this cross
luck, I was sure I was between the Knight and home.
_Nee._ Not gone yet? oh my heart! none regard my health?
_Witty._ Good Sir, forbear her sight awhile, you hear how ill
she brooks it.
_Clow._ Foolish woman, to overthrow her fortunes so; I shall
think the worse of a Ladies wit, while I live for't--I could
almost cry for anger, if she should miscarry now; 'twould touch
my conscience a little, and who knows what love and conceit
may do? what would people say, as I go along? there goes he
that the Lady died for love on, I am sure to hear on't i'th'
streets, I shall weep before hand; foolish woman, I do grieve
more for thee now, than I did love thee before; well, go thy
ways, wouldst thou spare thy Husbands head, and break thine own
heart? if thou hadst any wit, I would some other had been the
cause of thy undoing, I shall be twitted i'th' teeth with it,
I'm sure of that, foolish Lady. [_Exit._
_Nee._ So, so, this trouble's well shook off, Uncle, how d'ye?
there's a Dowrie due, Sir.
_Cun._ We have agreed it sweetest,
And find your Uncle fully recover'd, kind to both of us.
_Witty._ To all the rest I hope.
_Old K._ Never to thee, nor thee, easie cosin _Credulous_,
Was your wit so raw?
_Cred._ Faith yours Sir, so long season'd
Has been faulty too, and very much to blame,
Speaking it with reverence, Uncle.
_Sir Gr._ Yes faith, Sir, you have paid as dear for your time,
as any man here.
_Witty._ I Sir, and I'll reckon it to him. _Imprimis_, The
first preface cheat of a pair of pieces to the Beggars, you
remember that I was the example to your bounty there, I spake
_Greek_ and _Syriack_, Sir, you understand me now. Next, the
Robbery put upon your indulgent Cosin, which indeed was no
Robbery, no Constable, no Justice, no Thief, but all Cheaters;
there was a hunder'd Mark, mark you that: Lastly, this
memorable 100 pounds worth of Musick, this was [but] cheats and
wit too, and for the assistance of this Gentleman to my Cosin
(for which I am to have a Fee) that was a little practice of my
wit too, Father; will you come to composition yet, Father?
_Cun._ Yes faith Sir, do, two hundr'd a year will be easier
than so much weekly, I do not think he's barren if he should be
put to't agen.
_Old K._ Why this was the day I look'd for, thou shalt have't,
And the next cheat makes it up three hundr'd;
Live thou upon thy ten pound Vicarage,
Thou get'st not a penny more, here's thy full
Hire now.
_Cred._ I thank you, Sir.
_Witty._ Why there was the sum of all my Wit, Father,
To shuve him out of your favour, which I fear'd
Would have disinherited me.
_Old K._ Most certain it had,
Had not thy wit recover'd it; is there any here
That had a hand with thee?
_Witty._ Yes, all these, Sir.
_Old K._ Nephew, part a hundr'd pound amongst 'em,
I'll repay it; wealth, love me as I love wit;
When I die,
I'll build an Alms-house for decay'd wits.
_Sir Gr._ I'll entertain one in my life time; Scholar, you
shall be my Chaplain, I have the gift of twenty Benefices,
simple as I am here.
_Pris._ Thanks my great Patron.
_Cun._ Sir your Gentry and your name shall both be rais'd as
high as my fortunes can reach 'em, for your friends sake.
_Witty._ Something will be in my present power, the future more,
You shall share with me.
_Ruin and Wife._ Thanks worthy Gentlemen.
_Nee._ Sir, I would beg one thing of you.
_Sir Gr._ You can beg nothing of me.
_Witty._ Oh Sir, if she begs, there's your power over her.
_Sir Gr._ She has begg'd me for a fool already, but 'tis no matter.
I have begg'd her for a Lady, that she might have been,
That's one for another.
_Witty._ Nay, but if she beg--
_Sir Gr._ Let her beg agen then.
_Nee._ That your man _Pompey's_ Coat may come over his ears
back agen, I would not he should be lost for my sake.
_Sir Gr._ Well, 'tis granted, for mine own sake.
_Mirab._ I'll intreat it Sir.
_Sir Gr._ Why then 'tis granted for your sake.
_Old K._ Come, come, down with all weapons now, 'tis Musick time,
So it be purchas'd at an easie rate;
Some have receiv'd the knocks, some giv'n the hits,
And all concludes in love, there's happy wits. [_Exeunt._
The Epilogue at the reviving of this Play.
_We need not tell you Gallants, that this night_
_The Wits have jumpt, or that the Scenes hit right_
_'Twould be but labor lost for to excuse_
_What_ Fletcher _had to do in: his brisk Muse_
_Was so Mercurial, that if he but writ_
_An Act, or two, the whole Play rose up wit._
_We'll not appeal unto those Gentlemen_
_Judge by their Cloaths, if they sit right, nor when_
_The Ladies smile, and with their Fanns delight_
_To whisk a clinch aside, then all goes right:_
_'Twas well receiv'd before, and we dare say,_
_You now are welcome to no vulgar Play._
The Fair Maid of the Inn.