Volume I Part 63 (1/2)

_Pet._ Hah, _La Nuche_!

_Blunt._ How! cozen'd again!

_Will._ Look ye, Sir, she's so beautiful, you need no Portion, that alone's sufficient for Wit.

_Feth._ Much good may do you with your rich Lady, _Edward._

_Blunt._ Death, this Fool laugh at me too-- well, I am an errant right-down Loggerhead, a dull conceited cozen'd silly Fool; and he that ever takes me for any other, 'Dshartlikins, I'll beat him. I forgive you all, and will henceforth be good-natur'd; wo't borrow any Money? Pox on't, I'll lend as far as e'er 'twill go, for I am now reclaim'd.

_Guar._ Here is a Necklace of Pearl lost, which, Sir, I lay to your Charge.

[To _Fetherfool_.

_Feth._ Hum, I was bewitcht I did not rub off with it when it was mine-- who, I? if e'er I saw a Necklace of Pearl, I wish 'twere in my Belly.

_Blunt._ How a Necklace! unconscionable Rogue, not to let me share: well, there is no Friends.h.i.+p in the World; I hope they'l hang him.

_s.h.i.+ft._ He'll ne'er confess without the Rack-- come, we'll toss him in a Blanket.

_Feth._ Hah, toss me in a Blanket, that will turn my Stomach most villainously, and I shall disimbogue and discover all.

_s.h.i.+ft._ Come, come, the Blanket. [They lay hold on him.

_Feth._ Hold, hold, I do confess, I do confess--

_s.h.i.+ft._ Restore, and have your Pardon.

_Feth._ That is not in Nature at present, for Gentlemen, I have eat 'em.

_s.h.i.+ft._ 'Sdeath, I'll dissect ye. [Goes to draw.

_Will._ Let me redeem him; here Boy, take him to my Chamber, and let the Doctor glyster him soundly, and I'll warrant you your Pearl again.

_Feth._ If this be the end of travelling, I'll e'en to old _England_ again, take the Covenant, get a Sequestrator's Place, grow rich, and defy all Cavaliering.

_Beau._ 'Tis Morning, let's home, _Ariadne_, and try, if possible, to love so well to be content to marry; if we find that amendment in our Hearts, to say we dare believe and trust each other, then let it be a Match.

_Aria._ With all my Heart.

_Will._ You have a hankering after Marriage still, but I am for Love and Gallantry.

So tho by several ways we gain our End, Love still, like Death, does to one Center tend.

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Mrs. _BARRY_.

_Poets are Kings of Wit, and you appear A Parliament, by Play-Bill, summon'd here; When e'er in want, to you for aid they fly, And a new Play's the Speech that begs supply: But now-- The scanted Tribute is so slowly paid, Our Poets must find out another Trade; They've tried all ways th' insatiate Clan to please, Have parted with their old Prerogatives, Their Birth-right Satiring, and their just pretence Of judging even their own Wit and Sense; And write against their Consciences, to show How dull they can be to comply with you.

They've flatter'd all the Mutineers i'th' Nation, Grosser than e'er was done in Dedication; Pleas'd your sick Palates with Fantastick Wit, Such as was ne'er a treat before to th' Pit; Giants, fat Cardinals, Pope Joans and Fryers, To entertain Right Wors.h.i.+pfuls and Squires: Who laugh and cry Ads Nigs, 'tis woundy good, When the fuger's all the Jest that's understood.

And yet you'll come but once, unless by stealth, Except the Author be for Commonwealth; Then half Crown more you n.o.bly throw away, And tho my Lady seldom see a Play, She, with her eldest Daughter, shall be boxt that day.