Chapter 43

Enter _Harlequin_ with _Fetherfool’s_ Clothes on his Shoulder, leading him halting by one Hand, _Blunt_ (drunk) by the other in the dark; _Fetherfool_ bloody, his Coat put over his Shoulders.

Feth. _Peano, Peano_, Seignior, gently, good _Edward_—for I’ll not halt before a Cripple; I have lost a great part of my agil Faculties.

Blunt. Ah, see the Inconstancy of fickle Fortune, _Nicholas_—A Man to day, and beaten to morrow: but take comfort, there’s many a proper fellow has been robb’d and beaten on this Highway of whoring.

Feth. Ay, _Ned_, thou speak’st by woful Experience—but that I should miscarry after thy wholesom Documents—but we are all mortal, as thou say’st, _Ned_—Would I had never crost the Ferry from _Croydon_; a few such Nights as these wou’d learn a Man Experience enough to be a Wizard, if he have but the ill luck to escape hanging.

Blunt. ’Dsheartlikins, I wonder in what Country our kinder Stars rule: In _England_ plunder’d, sequester’d, imprison’d and banish’d; in _France_, starv’d, walking like the Sign of the naked Boy, with _Plymouth_ Cloaks in our Hands; in _Italy_ and _Spain_ robb’d, beaten, and thrown out at Windows.

Feth. Well, how happy am I, in having so true a Friend to condole me in Affliction— [Weeps.] I am oblig’d to Seignior _Harlequin_ too, for bringing me hither to the Mountebank’s, where I shall not only conceal this Catastrophe from those fortunate Rogues our Comrades, but 199 procure a little Album Græcum for my Backside. Come, Seignior, my Clothes—but, Seignior—_un Portavera Poco palanca_. [Dresses himself.

Harl. Seignior.

Feth. _Entende vos Signoria Englesa?_

Harl. _Em Poco, em Poco_, Seignior.

Feth. _Per quelq arts_, did your Seigniorship escape Cudgeling?

Harl. _La art de transformatio._

Feth. _Transformatio_—Why, wert thou not born a Man?

Harl. No, Seignior, _un vieule Femme_.

Feth. How, born an old Woman?

Blunt. Good Lord! born an old Woman! And so by transformation became invulnerable.

Feth. Ay—in—invulnerable—what would I give to be invulnerable? and egad, I am almost weary of being a Man, and subject to beating: wou’d I were a Woman, a Man has but an ill time on’t: if he has a mind to a Wench, the making Love is so plaguy tedious—then paying is to my Soul insupportable. But to be a Woman, to be courted with Presents, and have both the Pleasure and the Profit—to be without a Beard, and sing a fine Treble—and squeak if the Men but kiss me—’twere fine—and what’s better, I am sure never to be beaten again.

Blunt. Pox on’t, do not use an old Friend so scurvily; consider the Misery thou’lt indure to have the Heart and Mind of a jilting Whore possess thee: What a Fit of the Devil must he suffer who acts her Part from fourteen to fourscore! No,’tis resolv’d thou remain _Nicholas Fetherfool_ still, shalt marry the Monster, and laugh at Fortune.

Feth. ’Tis true, should I turn Whore to the Disgrace of my Family—what would the World say? who wou’d have thought it, cries one? I cou’d never have believ’d it, cries another. No, as thou say’st, I’ll remain as I am—marry and live honestly.

Blunt. Well resolv’d, I’ll leave you, for I was just going 200 to serenade my Fairy Queen, when I met thee at the Door—some Deeds of Gallantry must be perform’d, Seignior, _Bonus Nochus_. [Ex. _Blunt_./

Enter _Shift_ with Light.

Feth. Hah, a Light, undone!

Harl. _Patientia, Patientia_, Seignior.

Shift. Where the Devil can this Rogue _Hunt_ be? Just now all things are ready for marrying these two Monsters; they wait, the House is husht, and in the lucky Minute to have him out of the way: sure the Devil owes me a spite. [Runs against _Harlequin_, puts out his Candle.

Harl. _Qui est là?_

Shift. ’Tis _Harlequin_: Pox on’t, is’t you?

Harl. Peace, here’s _Fetherfool_, I’ll secure him, whilst you go about your Affair. [Ex. _Shift_.

Feth. Oh, I hear a Noise, dear _Harlequin_ secure me; if I am discover’d I am undone—hold, hold—here’s a Door— [They both go in.

Scene changes to a Chamber, discovers the _She-Giant_ asleep in a great Chair.

Enter _Fetherfool_ and _Harlequin_.

Feth. Hah—my Lady Monster! have I to avoid _Scylla_ run upon _Carybdis?_—hah, she sleeps; now wou’d some magnanimous Lover make good Use of this Opportunity, take Fortune by the Fore-lock, put her to’t, and make sure Work—but Egad, he must have a better Heart, or a better Mistress than I.

Harl. Try your Strength, I’ll be civil and leave you. [In _Italian_ he still speaks.

Feth. Excuse me, Seignior, I should crackle like a wicker Bottle in her Arms—no, Seignior, there’s no venturing without a Grate between us: the Devil wou’d not give her due Benevolence—No, when I’m marry’d, I’ll e’en show her a fair pair of Heels, her Portion will pay Postage 201 —But what if the Giant should carry her? that’s to be fear’d, then I have cock’d and drest, and fed, and ventur’d all this while for nothing.

Harl. Faith, Seignior, if I were you, I wou’d make sure of something, see how rich she is in Gems.

Feth. Right, as thou say’st, I ought to make sure of something, and she is rich in Gems: How amiable looks that Neck with that delicious row of Pearls about it.

Harl. She sleeps.

Feth. Ay, she sleeps as ’twere her last. What if I made bold to unrig her? So if I miss the Lady, I have at least my Charges paid: what vigorous Lover can resist her Charms?— [Looks on her. But shou’d she wake and miss it, and find it about me, I shou’d be hang’d— [Turns away. —So then, I lose my Lady too—but Flesh and Blood cannot resist—What if I left the Town? then I lose my Lady still; and who wou’d lose a Hog for the rest of the Proverb?—And yet a Bird in Hand, Friend _Nicholas_—Yet sweet Meat may have sour Sauce—And yet refuse when Fortune offers—Yet Honesty’s a Jewel—But a Pox upon Pride, when Folks go naked—

Harl. Well said. [Incouraging him by Signs.

Feth. Ay—I’ll do’t—but what Remedy now against Discovery and Restitution?

Harl. Oh, Sir, take no care, you shall—swallow ’em.

Feth. How, swallow ’em! I shall ne’er be able to do’t.

Harl. I’ll shew you, Seignior,’tis easy.

Feth. ’Gad that may be, ’twere excellent if I cou’d do’t; but first—by your leave. [Unties the Necklace, breaks the String, and _Harl._ swallows one to shew him.

Harl. Look ye, that’s all—

Feth. Hold, hold, Seignior, an you be so nimble, I shall pay dear for my Learning—let me see—Friend _Nicholas_, thou hast swallow’d many a Pill for the Disease of the 202 Body, let’s see what thou canst perform for that of the Purse. [Swallows ’em. —so—a comfortable business this—three or four thousand pound in Cordial-Pearl: ’Sbud, _Mark Anthony_ was never so treated by his _Egyptian_ Crocodile—hah, what noise is that?

Harl. Operator, Operator, Seignior.

Feth. How, an Operator! why, what the Devil makes he here? some Plot upon my Lady’s Chastity; were I given to be jealous now, Danger wou’d ensue—Oh, he’s entring, I would not be seen for all the World. Oh, some place of Refuge— [Looking about.

Harl. I know of none.

Feth. Hah, what’s this—a Clock Case?

Harl. Good, good—look you, Sir, do you do thus, and ’tis impossible to discover ye.

[Goes into the Case, and shews him how to stand; then _Fetherfool_ goes in, pulls off his Periwig, his Head out, turning for the Minutes o’th’ top: his Hand out, and his Fingers pointing to a Figure.

Enter _Shift_ and _Hunt_.

Feth. Oh Heaven, he’s here.

Shift. See where she sleeps; get you about your business, see your own little Marmoset and the Priest be ready, that we may marry and consummate before Day; and in the Morning our Friends shall see us abed together, give us the good morrow, and the Work’s done. [Ex. _Hunt_.

Feth. Oh Traytor to my Bed, what a Hellish Plot’s here discover’d! [_Shift_ wakes the _Giant_.

Giant. Oh, are you come, my Sweetest?

Feth. Hah, the Mistress of my Bosom false too! ah, who wou’d trust faithless Beauty—oh that I durst speak.

Shift. Come let’s away, your Uncle and the rest of the House are fast asleep, let’s away e’er the two Fools, Blunt and Fetherfool, arrive.

203 Giant. Hang ’em, Pigeon-hearted Slaves—

Shift. A Clock—let’s see what hour ’tis— [Lifts up the Light to see, _Feth._ blows it out. —How! betray’d—I’ll kill the Villain. [Draws.

Feth. Say you so, then ’tis time for me to uncase.

Shift. Have you your Lovers hid? [Gets out, all groping in the dark, _Feth._ gets the _Giant_ by the Hand.

Giant. Softly, or we’re undone; give me your Hand, and be undeceiv’d.

Feth. ’Tis she, now shall I be reveng’d. [Leads her out.

Shift. What, gone! Death, has this Monster got the Arts of Woman? [_Harl._ meets him in the dark, and plays tricks with him.

[Ex. all.

Enter _Willmore_ and _La Nuche_ by dark.

Will. Now we are safe and free, let’s in, my Soul, and gratefully first sacrifice to Love, then to the Gods of Mirth and Wine, my Dear. [Ex. passing over the Stage.

Enter _Blunt_ with _Petronella_, imbracing her, his Sword in his Hand, and a Box of Jewels.

Pet. I was damnably afraid I was pursu’d. [Aside.

Blunt. Something in the Fray I’ve got, pray Heaven it prove a Prize, after my cursed ill luck of losing my Lady Dwarf: Why do you tremble, fair one?—you’re in the Hands of an honest Gentleman, Adshartlikins.

Pet. Alas, Sir, just as I approach! Seignior Doctor’s Door, to have my self surrounded with naked Weapons, then to drop with the fear my Casket of Jewels, which had not you by chance stumbled on and taken up, I had lost a hundred thousand Crowns with it.

Blunt. Ha um—a hundred thousand Crowns—a pretty trifling Sum—I’ll many her out of hand. [Aside.

Pet. This is an _Englishman_, of a dull honest Nation, and might be manag’d to advantage, were but I transform’d now. [Aside.] I hope you are a Man of Honour; Sir, I am a Virgin, fled 204 from the rage of an incens’d Brother; cou’d you but secure me with my Treasure, I wou’d be devoted yours.

Blunt. Secure thee! by this Light, sweet Soul, I’ll marry thee;—_Belvile’s_ Lady ran just so away with him—this must be a Prize— [Aside.] But hark—prithee, my Dear, step in a little, I’ll keep my good Fortune to my self.

Pet. See what trust I repose in your Hands, those Jewels, Sir.

Blunt. So—there can be no jilting here, I am secur’d from being cozen’d however. [Ex. _Pet._

Enter _Fetherfool_.

Feth. A Pox on all Fools, I say, and a double Pox on all fighting Fools; just when I had miraculously got my Monster by a mistake in the dark, convey’d her out, and within a moment of marrying her, to have my Friend set upon me, and occasion my losing her, was a Catastrophe which none but thy termagant Courage (which never did any Man good) cou’d have procur’d.

Blunt. ’Dshartlikins, I cou’d kill my self.

Feth. To fight away a couple of such hopeful Monsters, and two Millions—’owns, was ever Valour so improvident?

Blunt. Your fighting made me mistake: for who the Pox wou’d have look’d for _Nicholas Fetherfool_ in the person of a Hero?

Feth. Fight, ’Sbud, a Million of Money wou’d have provok’d a Bully; besides, I took you for the damn’d Rogue my Rival.

Blunt. Just as I had finish’d my Serenade, and had put up my Pipes to be gone, out stalk’d me your two-handed Lady, with a Man at her Girdle like a bunch of Keys, whom I taking for nothing less than some one who had some foul design upon the Gentlewoman, like a true Knight-Errant, did my best to rescue her.

Feth. Yes, yes, I feel you did, a Pox of your heavy hand.

205 Blunt. So whilst we two were lovingly cuffing each other, comes the Rival, I suppose, and carries off the Prize.

Feth. Who must be Seignior _Lucifer_ himself, he cou’d never have vanisht with that Celerity else with such a Carriage—But come, all we have to do is to raise the Mountebank and the Guardian, pursue the Rogues, have ’em hang’d by Law, for a Rape, and Theft, and then we stand fair again.

Blunt. Faith, you may, if you please, but Fortune has provided otherwise for me. [_Aside._] [Ex. _Blu._ and _Feth._

Enter _Beaumond_ and _Ariadne_.

Beau. Sure none lives here, or Thieves are broken in, the Doors are all left open.

Aria. Pray Heaven this Stranger prove but honest now. [Aside.

Beau. Now, my dear Creature, every thing conspires to make us happy, let us not defer it.

Aria. Hold, dear Captain, I yield but on Conditions, which are these—I give you up a Maid of Youth and Beauty, ten thousand Pound in ready Jewels here—three times the value in Estate to come, of which here be the Writings, you delivering me a handsom proper fellow, Heart-whole and sound, that’s all—your Name I ask not till the Priest declare it, who is to seal the Bargain. I cannot deceive, for I let you know I am Daughter-in-law to the _English_ Ambassador.

Beau. _Ariadne!_—How vain is all Man’s Industry and Care To make himself accomplish’d; When the gay fluttering Fool, or the half-witted rough unmanner’d Brute, Who in plain terms comes right down to the business, Out-rivals him in all his Love and Fortunes. [Aside.

Aria. Methinks you cool upon’t, Captain.

Beau. Yes, _Ariadne_.

206 Aria. _Beaumond!_

Beau. Oh what a World of Time have I mispent for want of being a Blockhead—’Sdeath and Hell,

Wou’d I had been some brawny ruffling Fool, Some forward impudent unthinking Sloven, A Woman’s Tool; for all besides unmanageable. Come, swear that all this while you thought ’twas I. The Devil has taught ye Tricks to bring your Falshood off.

Aria. Know ’twas you! no, Faith, I took you for as errant a right-down Captain as ever Woman wisht for; and ’twas uncivil egad, to undeceive me, I tell you that now.

Enter _Willmore_ and _La Nuche_ by dark.

Will. Thou art all Charms, a Heaven of Sweets all over, plump smooth round Limbs, small rising Breasts, a Bosom soft and panting—I long to wound each Sense. Lights there—who waits?—there yet remains a Pleasure unpossest, the sight of that dear Face—Lights there—where are my Vermin? [Ex. _Will._

Aria. My Captain with a Woman—and is it so—

Enter _Will._ with Lights, sees _Aria_, and goes to her.

Will. By Heaven, a glorious Beauty! now a Blessing on thee for shewing me so dear a Face—Come, Child, let’s retire and begin where we left off.

La Nu. A Woman!

Aria. Where we left off! pray, where was that, good Captain?

Will. Within upon the Bed, Child—come—I’ll show thee.

Beau. Hold, Sir.

Will. _Beaumond!_ come fit to celebrate my Happiness; ah such a Woman-friend!

Beau. Do ye know her?

Will. All o’er, to be the softest sweetest Creature—

Beau. I mean, do ye know who she is?

207 Will. Nor care; ’tis the last Question I ever ask a fine Woman.

Beau. And you are sure you are thus well acquainted.

Will. I cannot boast of much acquaintance—but I have pluckt a Rose from her Bosom—or so—and given it her again—we’ve past the hour of the Berjere together, that’s all—

Beau. And do you know—this Lady is my—Wife? [Draw.

Will. Hah! hum, hum, hum, hum— [Turns and sings, sees _La Nuche_, and returns quick with an uneasy Grimace.

Beau. Did you not hear me? Draw.

Will. Draw, Sir—what on my Friend?

Beau. On your Cuckold, Sir, for so you’ve doubly made me: Draw, or I’ll kill thee— [Passes at him, he fences with his Hat, _La Nu._ holds Beau.

Will. Hold, prithee hold.

La Nu. Put up your Sword, this Lady’s innocent, at least in what concerns this Evening’s business; I own—with Pride I own I am the Woman that pleas’d so well to Night.

Will. _La Nuche!_ kind Soul to bring me off with so handsom a lye: How lucky ’twas she happen’d to be here!

Beau. False as thou art, why shou’d I credit thee?

La Nu. By Heaven, ’tis true, I will not lose the glory on’t.

Will. Oh the dear perjur’d Creature, how I love thee for this dear lying Virtue—Harkye, Child, hast thou nothing to say for thy self, to help us out withal?— [To _Aria._ aside.

Aria. I! I renounce ye—false Man.

Beau. Yes, yes, I know she’s innocent of this, for which I owe no thanks to either of you, but to my self who mistook her in the dark.

La Nu. And you it seems mistook me for this Lady; I favour’d your Design to gain your Heart, for I was told, 208 that if this Night I lost you, I shou’d never regain you: now I am yours, and o’er the habitable World will follow you, and live and starve by turns, as Fortune pleases.

Will. Nay, by this Light, Child, I knew when once thou’dst try’d me, thou’dst ne’er part with me—give me thy Hand, no Poverty shall part us. [Kisses her. —so—now here’s a Bargain made without the formal Foppery of Marriage.

La Nu. Nay, faith Captain, she that will not take thy word as soon as the Parson’s of the Parish, deserves not the Blessing.

Will. Thou art reform’d, and I adore the Change.

Enter the _Guardian_, _Blunt_, and _Fetherfool_.

Guar. My Nieces stol’n, and by a couple of the Seignior’s Men! the Seignior fled too! undone, undone!

Will. Hah, now’s my Cue, I must finish this Jest. [Goes out.

Enter _Shift_ and _Giant_, _Hunt_ and _Dwarf_.

Guar. Oh impudence, my Nieces, and the Villains with ’em! I charge ye, Gentlemen, to lay hold on ’em.

Dwarf. For what, good Uncle, for being so courageous to marry us?

Guar. How, married to Rogues, Rascals, _John Potages!_

Blunt. Who the Devil wou’d have look’d for jilting in such Hobgoblins?

Feth. And hast thou deceiv’d me, thou foul filthy Synagogue?

Enter _Willmore_ like a Mountebank as before.

Blunt. The Mountebank! oh thou cheating Quack, thou sophisticated adulterated Villain.

Feth. Thou cozening, lying, Fortune-telling, Feetaking Rascal.

Blunt. Thou jugling, conjuring, canting Rogue!

Will. What’s the matter, Gentlemen?

209 Blunt. Hast thou the Impudence to ask, who took my Money to marry me to this ill-favour’d Baboon?

Feth. And me to this foul filthy o’ergrown Chronicle?

Blunt. And hast suffered Rogues, thy Servants, to marry ’em: Sirrah, I will beat thee past Cure of all thy hard-nam’d Drugs, thy _Guzman Medicines_.

Feth. Nay, I’ll peach him in the Inquisition for a Wizard, and have him hang’d for a Witch.

Shift. Sir, we are Gentlemen, and you shall have the thirds of their Portion, what wou’d you more? [Aside to the _Guar._ Look ye, Sir. [Pulls off their Disguise.

Blunt. _Hunt!_

Feth. _Shift!_ We are betray’d: all will out to the Captain.

Will. He shall know no more of it than he does already for me, Gentlemen. [Pulls off his Disguise.

Blunt. _Willmore!_

Feth. Ay, ay,’tis he.

Blunt. Draw, Sir—you know me—

Will. —For one that ’tis impossible to cozen. [All laugh.

Beau. Have a care, Sir, we are all for the Captain.

Feth. As for that, Sir, we fear ye not, d’ye see, were you _Hercules_ and all his Myrmidons. [Draws, but gets behind.

Will. Fools, put up your Swords, Fools, and do not publish the Jest; your Money you shall have again, on condition you never pretend to be wiser than your other Men, but modestly believe you may be cozen’d as well as your Neighbours. [The _Guardian_ talking with _Hunt_ and _Shift_ and _Giant_ this while.

Feth. La you, _Ned_, why shou’d Friends fall out?

Blunt. Cozen’d! it may be not, Sir; for look ye, Sir, the _Essex_ Fool, the cozen’d dull Rogue can shew Moveables or so—nay, they are right too— [Shews his Jewels. This is no _Naples_ Adventure, Gentlemen, no Copper 210 Chains; all substantial Diamonds, Pearls and Rubies— [_Will._ takes the Casket, and looks in it.

La Nu. Hah, do not I know that Casket, and those Jewels!

Feth. How the Pox came this Rogue by these?

Will. Hum, _Edward_, I confess you have redeem’d your Reputation, and shall hereafter pass for a Wit—by what good fortune came you by this Treasure?—what Lady—

Blunt. Lady, Sir! alas no, I’m a Fool, a Country Fop, an Ass, I; but that you may perceive your selves mistaken, Gentlemen, this is but an earnest of what’s to come, a small token of remembrance, or so—and yet I have no Charms, I; the fine Captain has all the Wit and Beauty—but thou’rt my Friend, and I’ll impart. [Brings out _Petronella_ veil’d.

Enter _Aurelia_ and _Sancho_.

Aur. Hither we trac’d her, and see she’s yonder.

San. Sir, in the King’s Name lay hold of this old Cheat, she has this Night robb’d our _Patrona_ of a hundred thousand Crowns in Money and Jewels.

Blunt. Hah! [Gets from her.

La Nu. You are mistaken, Friend _Sancho_, she only seiz’d ’em for my use, and has deliver’d ’em in trust to my Friend the Captain.

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.

211 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 Friendship in the World; I hope they’l hang him.

Shift. 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.

Shift. Come, come, the Blanket. [They lay hold on him.

Feth. Hold, hold, I do confess, I do confess—

Shift. Restore, and have your Pardon.

Feth. That is not in Nature at present, for Gentlemen, I have eat ’em.

Shift. ’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.

212 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 Worshipfuls 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 nobly throw away, And tho my Lady seldom see a Play, She, with her eldest Daughter, shall be boxt that day. Then Prologue comes, Ads-lightikins, crys Sir _John_, You shall hear notable Conceits anon: 213 How neatly, Sir, he’ll bob the Court and French King, And tickle away—you know who—for Wenching. All this won’t do, they e’en may spare their Speeches, For all their greasing will not buy ’em Britches; To get a penny new found ways must take, As forming Popes, and Squibs and Crackers make. In Coffee-Houses some their talent vent, Rail for the Cause against the Government, And make a pretty thriving living on’t, For who would let a useful Member want. Things being brought to this distressed Estate, ’Twere fit you took the matter in Debate. There was a time, when Loyally by you, True Wit and Sense received Allegiance due, Our King of Poets had his Tribute pay’d, His Peers secured beneath his Laurel’s shade. What Crimes have they committed, they must be Driven to the last and worst Extremity? Oh, let it not be said of English Men, Who have to Wit so just and noble been, They should their Loyal Principles recant, And let the glorious Monarch of it want.

_430_ Notes on the Text.

Rover II.

Dramatis Personæ

p. 117 I have added to the Dramatis Personæ ‘Rag, boy to Willmore’, and ‘Porter at the English Ambassador’s’.