JOHN CLAY, of Kilborn, tile-maker, the appointed bridegroom.

IN-AND-IN MEDLAY, of Islington, cooper, and head-borough.

RASI' CLENCH of Hamstead, farrier and petty constable.

To-PAN, tinker, or metal-man of Belsise, thurd-borough.

D'OG. SCRIBEN, of Chalcot, the great writer.
BALL PUPPY, the high constable's man.
FATHER ROSIN, the minstrel, and his two
boys.

JONE, JOYCE, MADGE, PARNEL, GRISEL,
KATE, maids of the bridal.
BLACK JACK, the Lady TUB's butler.
Two Grooms.

clowns,

The council of Finsbury, so they are ystyl'd,
Met at her father's; all the wise o' th'
hundred ;
[stable;

Old Rasi' Clench of Hamstead, petty con-
In-and-In Medlay, cooper of Islington,
And headborough; with loud To-Pan the
tinker,

Or metal-man of Belsise, the thirdborough:
And D'ogenes Scriben, the great writer of
Chalcot.

Tub. And why all these?

Hugh. Sir, to conclude in council,
A husband, or a make for Mrs. Awdrey;
Whom they have nam'd, and prick'd down,
Clay of Kilborn,

A tough young fellow, and a tilemaker.
Tub. And what must he do?
Hugh. Cover her, they say;

And keep her warm, sir: Mrs. Awdrey

Turfe

At's little a hole as another, through a milTub. He will ha' the last word, though i

talk bilke for't.

Hugh. Bilke, what's that?

Tub. Why, nothing, a word signifying Nothing; and borrowed here to express B thing.

Hugh. A fine device?

Tub. Yes, till we hear a finer. What's your device now, chanon Hugh? Hugh. In private,

Lend it your ear; I will not trust the & with it; [know it: Or scarce my shirt; my cassock sha' not If I thought it did, I'ld burn it. Tub. That's the way,

You ha' thought to get a new one, Hugh is't worth it?

as wool:

And melting as the weather in a thaw: He'll weep you, like all April: but he's roar you, [mellor Like middle March afore: he will be And tipsie too, as October: and as grave And bound up like a frost (with the new year)

In January; as rigid as he is rustic. Hugh. You know his nature, and describe it well;

I'll leave him to your fashioning.
Tub. Stay, sir Hugh;

Take a good angel with you, for your guide And let this guide you homeward, as th blessing

To our device.

Hugh. I thank you, 'squire's worship, Most humbly for the next (for this I am sure of.) [The 'squire goes off. O for a quire of these voices, now, To chime in a man's pocket, and cry chink! One doth not chirp: it makes no harmony. Grave justice Bramble next must contribute; His charity must offer at this wedding: I'll bid more to the bason, and the bride-ale; Although but one can bear away the bride. I smile to think how like a lottery

session;

These weddings are. Clay hath her in pos[kill: The 'squire he hopes to circumvent the TileAnd now if justice Bramble do come off, 'Tis two to one but Tub may lose his bot

tom.

SCENE II.

now,

Clench, Medlay, Scriben, Pan, Puppy. Cle. Why, 'tis thirty year, e'en as this day [look you; Zin Valentine's day, of all days kursin'd', And the zame day o' the month, as this zin Valentine,

Or I am vowly deceiv'd.

Med. That our high constable,

Mr. Tobias Turfe, and his dame were mar[Valentine?

ried.

I think you are right. But what was that zin Did you ever know 'um, goodman Clench? Cle. Zin Valentine,

He was a deadly zin, and dwelt at Highgate, As I have heard; but 'twas avore my time: He was a cooper too, as you are, Medlay, An In-and-In: A woundy brag young vel[days. As the port went o' hun then, and i̇ those Scri. Did he not write his name, Sim Valentine?

low:

Vor I have met no Sin in Finsbury books; And yet I have writ 'em six or seven times

over.

Pan. O you mun look for the nine deadly Sims,

I' the church-books, D'oge; not the high constable's; [lentine, Nori' the counties: zure, that same zin VaHe was a stately zin: an' he were a zin, And kept brave house.

Cle. At the Cock-and-Hen in Highgate. You ha' 'fresh'd my rememory well in't! neighbour Pan :

He had a place in last king Harry's time, Of sorting all the young couples; joining 'em,

And putting 'em together; which is yet Praform'd, as on his day-zin Valentine; As being the zin o' the shire, or the whole

county:

Of all days KURSIN'D] i. e. christen'd.

I am old rivet still, and bear a brain,
The Clench, the Varrier, and true Leach of
Hamstead'.

Pan. You are a shrewd antiquity, neighbour Clench!

And a great guide to all the parishes!
The very bell-weather of the hundred, here,
As I may zay. Mr. Tobias Turfe,
High constable, would not miss you, for a
[us.
When he doe 'scourse of the great charty to
Pup. What's that, a horse? can 'scourse
nought but a horse?

score on us,

I ne'er read o' hun, and that in Smith-veld charty:

I' the old Fabians chronicles: nor I think In any new. He may be a giant there, For aught I know.

Scri. You should do well to study Records, fellow Ball, both law and poetry. Pup. Why, all's but writing, and reading, is it Scriben?

An't be any more, it's mere cheating zure,
Vlat cheating: all your law and poets too.
Pan. Mr. high constable comes.
Pup. I'll zay't avore 'hun.

SCENE III.

Turfe, Clench, Medlay, Scriben, Puppy, Pan. Tur. What's that makes you all so merry and loud, sirs, ha?

I could ha' heard you to my privy walk. Cle. A contrevarsie 'twixt your two learned men here :

Annibal Puppy says, that law and poetry Are both flat cheating: all's but writing and reading,

He says, be't verse or prose.

Tur. I think in conzience,

He do zay true: who is't do,thwart 'un, ha? Med. Why, my friend Scriben, an't please your worship.

Tur. Who, D'oge? my D'ogenes? a great writer, marry! "He'll vace me down, me my self some

times, [I do : "That verse goes upon veet, as you and "But I can gi' un the hearing; zit me down, [clude, "And laugh at 'un; and to myself con"The greatest clerks are not the wisest [disputing, "Ever." Here they are both! what, sirs, And holding arguments of verse and prose? And no green thing afore the door, that shews,

men,

Or speaks a wedding.

Scri. Those were verses now, Your worship spake, and run upon vive veet. Tur. Feet, vrom my mouth, D'oge? leave your 'zurd uppinions;