Face. Let us see them. Where's the money? Sub. Here.

Face. The brethren's money, this. Drugger's and Dapper's in this,

Mammon's ten pounds: eight score before.
Where be the French petticoats,
And girdles, and hangers?

Sub. Here i' the trunk,

And the bolts of lawn.

Face. Is Drugger's damask there?
Sub. Yes.

Face. Give me the keys.

Dol. Why you the keys?

Sub. No matter, Dol; because

We shall not open them, before he comes.

Face. 'Tis true, you shall not open them, indeed;

Nor have them forth. Do you see? Not forth, Dol.

Both he, and she, be satisfied: for here
Determines the indenture tripartite,
'Twixt Subtle, Dol, and Face. . All I can do,
Is to help you over the wall, o' the backside;
Or lend you a sheet to save your velvet gown,
Dol.

Here will be officers presently; bethink you
Of some course suddenly to 'scape the dock;
For thither you'll come else. Hark you! thunder.
[Some knock.

Sub. You are a precious fiend!
Offi. Open the door.

[Outside.

Face. Dol, I am sorry for thee i'faith. But,

Love. What do you mean, my masters?
Mam. Open your door,

Cheaters, bawds, conjurers.

Offi. Or we'll break it open.

Love. What warrant have you?

Offi. Warrant enough, sir, doubt not.
Love. Is there an officer there?

Offi. Yes, two or three for failing.
Love. Have but patience,

And I will open it straight.
Face. Sir, have you done?
Is it a marriage? perfect?
Love. Yes, my brain.

Face. Off with your ruff, and cloak then; be
yourself, sir.

Sur. Down with the door.
Kas. 'Slight, ding it open.
Love. Hold,

Hold, gentlemen! what means this violence?
Mam. Where is this collier?
Sur. And my captain Face?
Mam. These day-owls?
Sur. That are birding in men's
Mam. Madam Suppository?

Kas. Doxey, my suster?

Ana. Locusts of the foul pit.

purses.

Trib. Prophane as Bell and the Dragon. Ana. Worse than the grashoppers, or the lice of Egypt.

Love. Good gentlemen, hear me.

ficers,

And cannot stay this violence?

Offi. Keep the peace.

Are you of

Love. Gentlemen, what is the matter! Whom do you seek?

Mam. The chymical cozener.

Sur. And the captain pander.
Kas. The nun, my suster.
Mam. Madam Rabbi.

Ana. Scorpions and caterpillars.
Love. Fewer at once, I pray you.

Offi. One after another, gentlemen, I charge

you. By virtue of my staff.

Ana. They are the vessels

[They enter. Here, I

Mam. Are they gone?
Love. You may go in and search, sir.
find

The empty walls worse than I left them, smoked,
A few cracked pots and glasses, and a furnace;
The ceiling filled with poesies of the candle:
Only one gentlewoman, I met here,
That is within, that said she was a widow-

Kas. Aye, that's my suster. I'll go thump her.
Where is she?
[Exit.

Love. And should ha' married a Spanish count, but he,

When he came to't, neglected her so grossly,
That I, a widower, am gone through with her.
Sur. How! Have I lost her, then?
Love. Were you the Don, sir!

Good faith, now, she does blame you extremely,

and says

You swore, and told her, you had taken the pains
To dye your beard, and umbre o'er your face,
Borrowed a suit and ruff all for her love,
And then did nothing. What an oversight,
And want of putting forward, sir, was this!
Well fare an old harquebuzier, yet
!

Could prime his powder, and give fire, and hit,
All in a twinkling.

Mam. No.

cannot tell. It may be they should. What then?

Love. What a great loss in hope have you sustained!

Mam. Not I, the commonwealth has. I will go mount a turnip-cart, and preach The end o' the world, within these two months, Surly, what! in a dream?

Sur. Must I needs cheat myself, With that same foolish vice of honesty! Come, let us go, and hearken out the rogues. That Face I'll mark for mine, if I e'er meet him. [Exeunt.

Face. If you get off the angry child, now, sir

A little indulgent to that servant's wit,

Got off from Subtle, Surly, Mammon, Dol,

With whom I traded; yet I put myself
On
you that are my country; and this pelf,
Which I have got, if you do quit me, rests
To feast you often, and invite new guests.

[Exeunt omnes.

GREEDY, a hungry justice of peace.

TAPWELL, an ale-house-keeper. Three creditors.

WOMEN.

LADY ALLWORTH, a rich widow. MARGARET, Overreach's daughter.

Tap. What I was, sir, it skills not; What you are, is apparent. Now for a farewell: Since you talk of father, in my hope it will torment you,

I'll briefly tell your story. Your dead father,
My quondam master, was a man of worship;
Old sir John Wellborn, justice of peace and quo-

rum ;

And stood fair to be custos rotulorum ;

Bare the whole sway of the shire; kept a good house;

Relieved the poor, and so forth; but he dying,
And the twelve hundred a-year coming to you,
Late Mr Francis, but now forlorn Wellborn-

Well. Slave, stop! or I shall lose myself.
Froth. Very hardly,

You cannot be out of your way.

Tap. But to my story; I shall proceed, sir: You were then a lord of acres, the prime gallant, And I your under-butler: note the change now. You had a merry time of't. Hawks and hounds; With choice of running horses: mistresses, And other such extravagancies; Which your uncle, sir Giles Overreach, observing, Resolving not to lose so fair an opportunity, On foolish mortgages, statutes, and bonds, For awhile supplied your lavishness, and then left

you.

Well. Some curate has penned this invective, mongrel,

And you have studied it.

Tap. I have not done yet.

Your lands gone, and your credit not worth a token,

You grew the common borrower; no man 'scaped Your paper pellets, from the gentleman to the

groom;

While I, honest Tim Tapwell, with a little stock, Some forty pounds or so, bought a small cottage; Humbled myself to marriage with my Froth here; Gave entertainment

Well. Yes, to whores and pickpockets.
Tap. True, but they brought in profit;
And had a gift to pay what they called for;
And stuck not like your mastership. The poor
income

I gleaned from them hath made me in my parish
Thought worthy to be scavenger! and, in time,
May rise to be overseer of the poor;
Which, if I do, on your petition, Wellborn,
I may allow you thirteen pence a quarter;
And you shall thank my worship.

Well. Thus, you dog-bolt

And thus

Tap. Cry out for help!

Well. Stir, and thou diest:

For if they grumble, I revoke my pardon. Froth. This comes of your prating, husband; you presumed

On your ambling wit, and must use your glib tongue,

Though you are beaten lame for it.

Tap. Patience, Froth;
There is no law to cure our bruises.

all!

[They go off into the house. Well. Sent for to your mother? Allw. My lady, Frank, my patroness! my She's such a mourner for my father's death, And, in her love to him, so favours me, That I cannot pay too much observance to her. There are few such stepdames.

Well. Tis a noble widow,

And keeps her reputation pure, and clear
From the least taint of infamy; her life,
With the splendour of her actions, leaves no
tongue

To envy or detraction. Pr'ythee, tell me ;
Has she no suitors?

Allw. Even the best of the shire, Frank,
My lord excepted: such as sue, and send,
And send, and sue again; but to no purpose.
Their frequent visits have not gained her pre-

sence;

Your potent prince, the constable, shall not save

While I give you good counsel. I am bound

to it;

Thy father was my friend; and that affection I bore to him, in right descends to thee: Thou art a handsome and a hopeful youth,