PROLOGUE

Fortune, that favours fools, these two short hours
We wish away, both for sakes and ours,
Judging spectators; and desire, in place,

your

To th' author justice, to ourselves but grace.
Our scene is London, 'cause we would make known,
No country's mirth is better than our own:
No clime breeds better matter for

your whore,
Bawd, squire, impostor, many persons more,
Whose manners, now called humours, feed the stage;
And which have still been subject for the rage
Or spleen of comic writers. Tho' this pen
Did never aim to grieve, but better men;
Howe'er the age he lives in doth endure

The vices that she breeds, above their cure.
But when the wholesome remedies are sweet,
And in their working gain and profit meet,
He hopes to find no spirit so much diseased,

But will with such fair correctives be pleased: For here he doth not fear who can apply.

If there be any that will sit so nigh

Unto the stream, to look what it doth run,

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ΙΟ

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They shall find things, they'd think, or wish, were done;

They are so natural follies, but so shown,

As e'en the doers may see, and yet not own,

ACT I

SCENE I-Room in Lovewit's House.

Face, Subtle, Dol Common.

Face. Believe't, I will.

Subt.

Dol.

Thy worst, I f at thee.

Have you your wits? Why, gentlemen! For love—

Face. Sirrah, I'll strip you

Subt.

Out at my

Face.

Dol.

What to do? Lick figs

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Rogue, rogue, out of all your sleights. Nay, look ye, sovereign, general, are you madmen? Subt. O, let the wild sheep loose. I'll gum your silks With good strong water, an you come.

Dol.

Will you have The neighbours hear you? will you betray all? Hark, I hear somebody.

Face.

Subt.

Sirrah

I shall mar

All that the tailor has made, if you approach.

Face. You most notorious whelp, you insolent slave, Dare you do this?

Subt.

Face.

Am I, my mongrel? Who am I?

Subt.

Why, who

I'll tell you,

Since you know not yourself.

ΙΟ

Face.

Speak lower, rogue.

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Subt. Yes, you were once (time's not long past) the good, Honest, plain, livery three-pound-thrum, that kept Your master's worship's house here in the Friars, For the vacations

Face.

Subt.

Since, by my means, translated suburb-captain. Face. By your means, doctor dog?

Will you be so loud?

Subt.

Within man's' memory,

All this I speak of.

Why, I pray you, have I

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Face.

Been countenanced by you, or you by me?
Do but collect, sir, where I met you first.
Subt. I do not hear well.
Face.
Not of this, I think it.
But I shall put you in mind, sir;—at Pie-corner,
Taking your meal of steam in from cooks' stalls;
Where, like the father of hunger, you did walk
Piteously costive, with your pinched-horn nose,
And your complexion of the Roman wash,
Stuck full of black and melancholic worms,
Like powder-corns shot at th' artillery-yard.

Subt. I wish you could advance your voice a little.
Face. When you went pinned up in the several rags
You had raked and picked from dunghills, before day;
Your feet in mouldy slippers, for your kibes,
A felt of rug, and a thin threaden cloak,
That scarce would cover your no-buttocks-

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Subt.

So, sir!

Face. When all

(minium)

When all your alchemy, and your algebra,

Your minerals, vegetals, and animals,

Your conjuring, coz'ning, and your dozen of trades,
Could not relieve your corps with so much linen
Would make you tinder, but to see a fire;

I gave you countenance, credit for

your coals,
Your stills, your glasses, your materials;
Built you a furnace, drew you customers,
Advanced all your black arts; lent

A house to practise in

Subt.

lent you, beside,

Your master's house!

Face. Where you have studied the more thriving skill Of bawdry since.

Subt.

Yes, in your master's house,

You and the rats here kept possession.

Make it not strange. I know you were one could keep
The buttry-hatch still locked, and save the chippings,
Sell the dole beer to aqua-vitæ men,

up house.

The which, together with your Christmas vails,)!*)!!
At post and pair, your letting out of counters,
Made you a pretty stock, some twenty marks,
And gave you credit to converse with cobwebs,
Here, since your mistress' death hath broke
Face. You might talk softlier, rascal.
Subt.
I'll thunder you in pieces: I will teach you
How to beware to tempt a Fury again,

No, you scarab.

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