Part 5 (2/2)

_Abig_. Sir, will you put in deeper, 'tis the sweeter.

_Mar_. Well said old sayings.

_Wel_. She looks like one indeed. Gentlewoman you keep your word, your sweet self has made the bottom sweeter.

_Abig_. Sir, I begin a frolick, dare you change Sir?

_Wel_. My self for you, so please you. That smile has turn'd my stomach: this is right the old Embleme of the Moyle cropping of Thistles: Lord what a hunting head she carries, sure she has been ridden with a Martingale.

Now love deliver me.

_Rog_. Do I dream, or do I wake? surely I know not: am I rub'd off? Is this the way of all my morning Prayers? Oh _Roger_, thou art but gra.s.s, and woman as a flower. Did I for this consume my quarters in Meditation, Vowes, and wooed her in _Heroical Epistles_? Did I expound the Owl, and undertook with labour and expence the recollection of those thousand Pieces, consum'd in Cellars, and Tabacco-shops of that our honour'd _Englishman Ni. Br._? Have I done this, and am I done thus too? I will end with the wise man, and say; He that holds a Woman, has an Eel by the tail.

_Mar._ Sir 'tis so late, and our entertainment (meaning our Posset) by this is grown so cold, that 'twere an unmannerly part longer to hold you from your rest: let what the house has be at your command Sir.

_Wel._ Sweet rest be with you Lady; and to you what you desire too.

_Abig._ It should be some such good thing like your self then. [_Exeunt._

_Wel._ Heaven keep me from that curse, and all my issue. Good night Antiquity.

_Rog._ _Solamen Miseris socios habuisse Doloris_: but I alone.

_Wel._ Learned Sir, will you bid my man come to me? and requesting a greater measure of your learning, good night, good Master _Roger_.

_Rog._ Good Sir, peace be with you. [_Exit_ Roger.

_Wel._ Adue dear _Domine_. Half a dozen such in a Kingdom would make a man forswear confession: for who that had but half his wits about him, would commit the Counsel of a serious sin to such a cruel Night-cap? Why how now shall we have an Antick? [_Enter Servant._ Whose head do you carry upon your shoulders, that you jole it so against the Post? Is't for your ease? Or have you seen the Celler? Where are my slippers Sir?

_Ser._ Here Sir.

_Wel._ Where Sir? have you got the pot Verdugo? have you seen the Horses Sir?

_Ser._ Yes Sir.

_Wel._ Have they any meat?

_Ser._ Faith Sir, they have a kind of wholesome Rushes, Hay I cannot call it.

_Wel._ And no Provender?

_Ser._ Sir, so I take it.

_Wel._ You are merry Sir, and why so?

_Ser._ Faith Sir, here are no Oats to be got, unless you'l have 'em in Porredge: the people are so mainly given to spoon-meat: yonder's a cast of Coach-mares of the Gentlewomans, the strangest Cattel.

_Wel._ Why?

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