SCENE VI.

_Enter +Bright+, +Newcut+, +Timothy+, +Plotwell+._

+Bright.+ Save you, Captain Quartfield, and my brave wit, My man of Helicon. Salute this gentleman, He is a city wit.

+New.+ A corporation went to the bringing of him forth.

+Quart.+ I embrace him.

+Sale.+ And so do I.

+Tim.+ You are a poet, sir, And can make verses, I hear?

+Sale.+ Sir, I am A servant to the Muses.

+Tim.+ I have made Some speeches, sir, in verse, which have been spoke By a green Robin Goodfellow from Cheapside conduit,[216] To my father's company, and mean this afternoon To make an epithalamium upon my wedding. A lady fell in love with me this morning: Ask Master Francis here.

+Plot.+ Heart! you spoil all. Did not I charge you to be silent?

+Tim.+ That's true; I had forgot. You are a captain, sir?

+Quart.+ I have seen service, sir.

+Tim.+ Captain, I love Men of the sword and buff; and if need were, I can roar too, and hope to swear in time, Do you see, captain?

+Plot.+ Nay, captain, we have brought you A gentleman of valour, who has been In Moorfields often: marry, it has been To 'squire his sisters, and demolish custards At Pimlico.[217] [_+Timothy+ walks aside._

+Quart.+ Afore me, Master Plotwell; I never hop'd to see you in silk again.

+Sale.+ I look'd the next Lord Mayor's day to see you o' th' livery, Or one o' th' bachelor whifflers.[218]

+Quart.+ What, is your uncle dead?

+Plot.+ He may in time: he's gone To sea this morning, captain; and I am come Into your order again. But hark you, captain, What think you of a fish now?

+Quart.+ Mad wags, mad wags.

+Bright.+ By Heaven, it's true. Here we have brought one with us.

+New.+ Rich Seathrift's son: he'll make a rare sea-monster.

+Quart.+ And shall's be merry, i' faith?

+Bright.+ Salewit shall make a song upon him.

+New.+ And Roseclap's boy shall sing it.

+Sale.+ We have the properties of the last fish.[219]

+Quart.+ And if I At dinner do not give him sea enough, And afterwards, if I and Salewit do not Show him much better than he that shows the Tombs, Let me be turned into a sword-fish myself.

+Plot.+ A natural change for a captain! How now, Roseclap, Pensive, and cursing the long vacation? Thou look'st as if thou mean'st to break shortly.

+Rose.+ Ask the captain why I am sad?

+Quart.+ Faith, gentlemen, I disciplin'd him for his rudeness.

+Plot.+ Why, these Are judgments, Roseclap, for dear reckonings.

+Tim.+ Art thou the half-crown fellow of the house?

+Rose.+ Sir, I do keep the ordinary.

+Tim.+ Let's have wine enough; I mean to drink a health to a lady.

+Plot.+ Still Will you betray your fortune? One of them Will go and tell her who you are, and spoil The marriage.

+Tim.+ No; peace! Gentlemen, if you'll Go in, we'll follow.

+Rose.+ Please you enter, dinner Shall straight be set upon the board.

+Bright.+ We'll expect you. Come, gentlemen.

[_Exeunt +Bright+, +Newcut+, +Salewit+, +Quartfield+, and +Roseclap+._

+Tim.+ But, Master Francis, was that The business, why she call'd you back?

+Plot.+ Believe it; Your mother's smock shin'd at your birth, or else You wear some charm about you.

+Tim.+ Not I, truly.

+Plot.+ It cannot be she should so strangely doat Upon you else. 'Slight! had you stay'd, I think She would have woo'd you herself.

+Tim.+ Now I remember, One read my fortune once, and told my father, That I should match a lady.

+Plot.+ How things fall out!

+Tim.+ And did she ask you who I was?

+Plot.+ I told her you were a young knight.

+Tim.+ Good.

+Plot.+ Scarce come to th' years of your discretion yet.

+Tim.+ Good still.

+Plot.+ And that a great man Did mean to beg you[220]----for his daughter.

+Tim.+ Most rare: this afternoon's the time.

+Plot.+ Faith, she Looks you should use a little courtship first; That done, let me alone to have the priest In readiness.

+Tim.+ But were I not best ask my friends' consent?

+Plot.+ How! Friends' consent? that's fit For none but farmers' sons and milkmaids. You shall not Debase your judgment. She takes you for a wit, And you shall match her like one.

+Tim.+ Then I will.

+Plot.+ But no more words to th' gallants.

+Tim.+ Do you think I am a sieve, and cannot hold?

_Enter +Roseclap+._

+Rose.+ Gentlemen, the company are sat.

+Tim.+ It shall be yours.

+Plot.+ Nay, sir, your fortune claims precedency. [_Exeunt._