Has there been such resort, say you?

Daily, sir.

And nightly, too.

Ay, some as brave as lords.

Ladies and gentlewomen.

Citizens’ wives.

And knights.

In coaches.

Yes, and oyster women.

Beside other gallants.

Sailors’ wives.

Tobacco men.

Another Pimlico!

What should my knave advance,
To draw this company? He hung out no banners
Of a strange calf with five legs to be seen,
Or a huge lobster with six claws?

No, sir.

We had gone in then, sir.

He has no gift
Of teaching in the nose that e’er I knew of.
You saw no bills set up that promised cure
Of agues, or the toothache?

No such thing, sir!

Nor heard a drum struck for baboons or puppets?

Neither, sir.

What device should he bring forth now?
I love a teeming wit as I love my nourishment:
’Pray God he have not kept such open house,
That he hath sold my hangings, and my bedding!
I left him nothing else. If he have eat them,
A plague o’ the moth, say I! Sure he has got
Some bawdy pictures to call all this ging!
The friar and the nun; or the new motion
Of the knight’s courser covering the parson’s mare;
Or ’t may be, he has the fleas that run at tilt
Upon a table, or some dog to dance.
When saw you him?

Who, sir, Jeremy?

Jeremy butler?
We saw him not this month.

How!

Not these five weeks, sir.

These six weeks at the least.

You amaze me, neighbours!

Sure, if your worship know not where he is,
He’s slipt away.

Pray God, he be not made away.

Ha! It’s no time to question, then.

About
Some three weeks since, I heard a doleful cry,
As I sat up a mending my wife’s stockings.

’Tis strange that none will answer! Didst thou hear
A cry, sayst thou?

Yes, sir, like unto a man
That had been strangled an hour, and could not speak.

I heard it too, just this day three weeks, at two o’clock
Next morning.

These be miracles, or you make them so!
A man an hour strangled, and could not speak,
And both you heard him cry?

Yes, downward, sir.

Thou art a wise fellow. Give me thy hand, I pray thee.
What trade art thou on?

A smith, and’t please your worship.

A smith! Then lend me thy help to get this door open.

That I will presently, sir, but fetch my tools⁠—

Sir, best to knock again, afore you break it.

I will. Knocks again.

What mean you, sir?

O, here’s Jeremy!

Good sir, come from the door.

Why, what’s the matter?

Yet farther, you are too near yet.

In the name of wonder,
What means the fellow!

The house, sir, has been visited.

What, with the plague? Stand thou then farther.

No, sir,
I had it not.

Who had it then? I left
None else but thee in the house.

Yes, sir, my fellow,
The cat that kept the buttery, had it on her
A week before I spied it; but I got her
Conveyed away in the night: and so I shut
The house up for a month⁠—

How!

Purposing then, sir,
To have burnt rose-vinegar, treacle, and tar,
And have made it sweet, that you should ne’er have known it;
Because I knew the news would but afflict you, sir.

Breathe less, and farther off! Why this is stranger:
The neighbours tell me all here that the doors
Have still been open⁠—

How, sir!

Gallants, men and women,
And of all sorts, tag-rag, been seen to flock here
In threaves, these ten weeks, as to a second Hogsden,
In days of Pimlico and Eye-bright.

Sir,
Their wisdoms will not say so.

Today they speak
Of coaches and gallants; one in a French hood
Went in, they tell me; and another was seen
In a velvet gown at the window: divers more
Pass in and out.

They did pass through the doors then,
Or walls, I assure their eyesights, and their spectacles;
For here, sir, are the keys, and here have been,
In this my pocket, now above twenty days:
And for before, I kept the fort alone there.
But that ’tis yet not deep in the afternoon,
I should believe my neighbours had seen double
Through the black pot, and made these apparitions!
For, on my faith to your worship, for these three weeks
And upwards the door has not been opened.

Strange!

Good faith, I think I saw a coach.

And I too,
I’d have been sworn.

Do you but think it now?
And but one coach?

We cannot tell, sir: Jeremy
Is a very honest fellow.

Did you see me at all?

No; that we are sure on.

I’ll be sworn o’ that.

Fine rogues to have your testimonies built on!

Is Jeremy come!

O yes; you may leave your tools;
We were deceived, he says.

He has had the keys;
And the door has been shut these three weeks.

Like enough.

Peace, and get hence, you changelings.

Aside. Surly come!
And Mammon made acquainted! They’ll tell all.
How shall I beat them off? What shall I do?
Nothing’s more wretched than a guilty conscience.

No, sir, he was a great physician. This,
It was no bawdyhouse, but a mere chancel!
You knew the lord and his sister.

Nay, good Surly.⁠—

The happy word, Be Rich⁠—

Play not the tyrant.⁠—

“Should be today pronounced to all your friends.”
And where be your andirons now? And your brass pots,
That should have been golden flagons, and great wedges?

Let me but breathe. What, they have shut their doors,
Methinks!

Ay, now ’tis holiday with them.

Rogues,
He and Surly knock.
Cozeners, imposters, bawds!

What mean you, sir?

To enter if we can.

Another man’s house!
Here is the owner, sir: turn you to him,
And speak your business.

Are you, sir, the owner?

Yes, sir.

And are those knaves within your cheaters!

What knaves, what cheaters?

Subtle and his Lungs.

The gentleman is distracted, sir! No lungs,
Nor lights have been seen here these three weeks, sir,
Within these doors, upon my word.

Your word,
Groom arrogant!

Yes, sir, I am the housekeeper,
And know the keys have not been out of my hands.

This is a new Face.

You do mistake the house, sir:
What sign was’t at?

You rascal! This is one
Of the confederacy. Come, let’s get officers,
And force the door.

’Pray you stay, gentlemen.

No, sir, we’ll come with warrant.

Ay, and then
We shall have your doors open.

What means this?

I cannot tell, sir.

These are two of the gallants
That we do think we saw.

Two of the fools!
Your talk as idly as they. Good faith, sir,
I think the moon has crazed ’em all.⁠—
Aside.
O me,

The angry boy come too! He’ll make a noise,
And ne’er away till he have betrayed us all.

Knocking.
What rogues, bawds, slaves, you’ll open the door, anon!
Punk, cockatrice, my sister! By this light
I’ll fetch the marshal to you. You are a whore
To keep your castle⁠—

Who would you speak with, sir?

The bawdy Doctor, and the cozening Captain,
And puss my sister.

This is something, sure.

Upon my trust, the doors were never open, sir.

I have heard all their tricks told me twice over,
By the fat knight and the lean gentleman.

Here comes another.

Ananias too!
And his pastor!

Beating at the door.
The doors are shut against us.

Come forth, you seed of sulphur, sons of fire!
Your stench it is broke forth; abomination
Is in the house.

Ay, my sister’s there.

The place,
It is become a cage of unclean birds.

Yes, I will fetch the scavenger, and the constable.

You shall do well.

We’ll join to weed them out.

You will not come then, punk devise, my sister!

Call her not sister; she’s a harlot verily.

I’ll raise the street.

Good gentlemen, a word.

Satan avoid, and hinder not our zeal!

The world’s turned Bedlam.

These are all broke loose,
Out of St. Katherine’s, where they use to keep
The better sort of mad-folks.

All these persons
We saw go in and out here.

Yes, indeed, sir.

These were the parties.

Peace, you drunkards! Sir,
I wonder at it: please you to give me leave
To touch the door, I’ll try an the lock be changed.

It mazes me!

Goes to the door. Good faith, sir, I believe
There’s no such thing: ’tis all deceptio visus.⁠—
Aside.
Would I could get him away.

Within. Master Captain! Master Doctor!

Who’s that?

Aside. Our clerk within, that I forgot!
I know not, sir.

Within. For God’s sake, when will her Grace be at leisure?

Ha!
Illusions, some spirit o’ the air⁠—
Aside. His gag is melted,
And now he sets out the throat.

Within. I am almost stifled⁠—

Aside. Would you were altogether.

’Tis in the house.
Ha! List.

Believe it, sir, in the air.

Peace, you.

Within. Mine aunt’s Grace does not use me well.

Within. You fool,
Peace, you’ll mar all.

Speaks through the keyhole, while Lovewit advances to the door unobserved.
Or you will else, you rogue.

O, is it so? Then you converse with spirits!⁠—
Come, sir. No more of your tricks, good Jeremy.
The truth, the shortest way.

Dismiss this rabble, sir.⁠—
Aside. What shall I do? I am catched.

Good neighbours,
I thank you all. You may depart.

—Come, sir,
You know that I am an indulgent master;
And therefore conceal nothing. What’s your medicine,
To draw so many several sorts of wild fowl?

Sir, you were wont to affect mirth and wit⁠—
But here’s no place to talk on’t in the street.
Give me but leave to make the best of my fortune,
And only pardon me the abuse of your house:
It’s all I beg. I’ll help you to a widow,
In recompence, that you shall give me thanks for,
Will make you seven years younger, and a rich one.
’Tis but your putting on a Spanish cloak:
I have her within. You need not fear the house;
It was not visited.

But by me, who came
Sooner than you expected.

It is true, sir.
’Pray you forgive me.

Well: let’s see your widow.

How! You have eaten your gag?

Yes faith, it crumbled
Away in my mouth.

You have spoiled all then.

No!
I hope my aunt of Fairy will forgive me.

Your aunt’s a gracious lady; but in troth
You were to blame.

The fume did overcome me,
And I did do’t to stay my stomach. ’Pray you
So satisfy her Grace.

Here comes the Captain.

How now! Is his mouth down?

Ay, he has spoken!

A pox, I heard him, and you too.⁠—He’s undone then.⁠—
I have been fain to say, the house is haunted
With spirits, to keep churl back.

And hast thou done it?

Sure, for this night.

Why, then triumph and sing
Of Face so famous, the precious king
Of present wits.

Did you not hear the coil
About the door?

Yes, and I dwindled with it.

Show him his aunt, and let him be dispatched:
I’ll send her to you.

Well, sir, your aunt her Grace
Will give you audience presently, on my suit,
And the Captain’s word that you did not eat your gag
In any contempt of her Highness.

Not I, in troth, sir.

Here she is come. Down o’ your knees and wriggle:
She has a stately presence.
Dapper kneels, and shuffles towards her.
Good! Yet nearer,
And bid, God save you!

Madam!

And your aunt.

And my most gracious aunt, God save your Grace.

Nephew, we thought to have been angry with you;
But that sweet face of yours hath turned the tide,
And made it flow with joy, that ebbed of love.
Arise, and touch our velvet gown.

The skirts,
And kiss ’em. So!

Let me now stroke that head.
“Much, nephew, shalt thou win, much shalt thou spend,
Much shalt thou give away, much shalt thou lend.”

Aside. Ay, much! Indeed.⁠—Why do you not thank her Grace?

I cannot speak for joy.

See, the kind wretch!
Your Grace’s kinsman right.

Give me the bird.
Here is your fly in a purse, about your neck, cousin;
Wear it, and feed it about this day sev’n-night,
On your right wrist⁠—

Open a vein with a pin,
And let it suck but once a week; till then,
You must not look on’t.

No: and kinsman,
Bear yourself worthy of the blood you come on.

Her Grace would have you eat no more Woolsack pies,
Nor Dagger frumety.

Nor break his fast
In Heaven and Hell.

She’s with you everywhere!
Nor play with costermongers, at mum-chance, tray-trip,
God make you rich; (when as your aunt has done it);
But keep
The gallantest company, and the best games⁠—

Yes, sir.

Gleek and primero; and what you get, be true to us.

By this hand, I will.

You may bring’s a thousand pound
Before tomorrow night, if but three thousand
Be stirring, an you will.

I swear I will then.

Your fly will learn you all games.

Within. Have you done there?

Your Grace will command him no more duties?

No:
But come, and see me often. I may chance
To leave him three or four hundred chests of treasure,
And some twelve thousand acres of Fairyland,
If he game well and comely with good gamesters.

There’s a kind aunt! Kiss her departing part.⁠—
But you must sell your forty mark a year, now.

Ay, sir, I mean.

Or, give’t away; pox on’t!

I’ll give’t mine aunt. I’ll go and fetch the writings.

’Tis well⁠—away!

Where’s Subtle?

Here: what news?

Drugger is at the door, go take his suit,
And bid him fetch a parson, presently;
Say, he shall marry the widow. Thou shalt spend
A hundred pound by the service!

Now, queen Dol,
Have you packed up all?

Yes.

And how do you like
The lady Pliant?

A good dull innocent.

Here’s your Hieronimo’s cloak and hat.

Give me them.

And the ruff too?

Yes; I’ll come to you presently.

Now he is gone about his project, Dol,
I told you of, for the widow.

’Tis direct
Against our articles.

Well, we will fit him, wench.
Hast thou gulled her of her jewels or her bracelets?

No; but I will do’t.

Soon at night, my Dolly,
When we are shipped, and all our goods aboard,
Eastward for Ratcliff, we will turn our course
To Brainford, westward, if thou sayst the word,
And take our leaves of this o’er-weening rascal,
This peremptory Face.

Content, I’m weary of him.

Thou’st cause, when the slave will run a wiving, Dol,
Against the instrument that was drawn between us.

I’ll pluck his bird as bare as I can.

Yes, tell her,
She must by any means address some present
To the cunning man, make him amends for wronging
His art with her suspicion; send a ring,
Or chain of pearl; she will be tortured else
Extremely in her sleep, say, and have strange things
Come to her. Wilt thou?

Yes.

My fine flitter-mouse,
My bird o’ the night! We’ll tickle it at the Pigeons,
When we have all, and may unlock the trunks,
And say, this’s mine, and thine; and thine, and mine.

What now! A billing?

Yes, a little exalted
In the good passage of our stock-affairs.

Drugger has brought his parson; take him in, Subtle,
And send Nab back again to wash his face.

I will: and shave himself?

If you can get him.

You are hot upon it, Face, whate’er it is!

A trick that Dol shall spend ten pound a month by.

Is he gone?

The chaplain waits you in the hall, sir.

I’ll go bestow him.

He’ll now marry her, instantly.

He cannot yet, he is not ready. Dear Dol,
Cozen her of all thou canst. To deceive him
Is no deceit, but justice, that would break
Such an inextricable tie as ours was.

Let me alone to fit him.

Come, my venturers,
You have packed up all? Where be the trunks? Bring forth.

Here.

Let us see them. Where’s the money?

Here,
In this.

Mammon’s ten pound; eight score before:
The Brethren’s money, this. Drugger’s and Dapper’s.
What paper’s that?

The jewel of the waiting maid’s,
That stole it from her lady, to know certain⁠—

If she should have precedence of her mistress?

Yes.

What box is that?

The fishwives’ rings, I think,
And the alewives’ single money. Is’t not, Dol?

Yes; and the whistle that the sailor’s wife
Brought you to know an her husband were with Ward.

We’ll wet it tomorrow; and our silver-beakers
And tavern cups. Where be the French petticoats,
And girdles and hangers?

Here, in the trunk,
And the bolts of lawn.

Is Drugger’s damask there,
And the tobacco?

Yes.

Give me the keys.

Why you the keys?

No matter, Dol; because
We shall not open them before he comes.

’Tis true, you shall not open them, indeed;
Nor have them forth, do you see? Not forth, Dol.

No!

No, my smock rampant. The right is, my master
Knows all, has pardoned me, and he will keep them;
Doctor, ’tis true⁠—you look⁠—for all your figures:
I sent for him, indeed. Wherefore, good partners,
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 will come else.
Loud knocking.
Hark you, thunder.

You are a precious fiend!

Without. Open the door.

Dol, I am sorry for thee i’faith; but hear’st thou?
It shall go hard but I will place thee somewhere:
Thou shalt have my letter to mistress Amo⁠—

Hang you!

Or madam Caesarean.

Pox upon you, rogue,
Would I had but time to beat thee!

Subtle,
Let’s know where you set up next; I will send you
A customer now and then, for old acquaintance:
What new course have you?

Rogue, I’ll hang myself;
That I may walk a greater devil than thou,
And haunt thee in the flock-bed and the buttery.

What do you mean, my masters?

Without. Open your door,
Cheaters, bawds, conjurers.

Without. Or we will break it open.

What warrant have you?

Without. Warrant enough, sir, doubt not,
If you’ll not open it.

Is there an officer, there?

Without. Yes, two or three for failing.

Have but patience,
And I will open it straight.

Sir, have you done?
Is it a marriage? Perfect?

Yes, my brain.

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

Without. Down with the door.

Without. ’Slight, ding it open.

Opening the door. Hold,
Hold, gentlemen, what means this violence?

Where is this collier?

And my Captain Face?

These day owls.

That are birding in men’s purses.

Madam Suppository.

Doxy, my sister.

Locusts
Of the foul pit.

Profane as Bel and the dragon.

Worse than the grasshoppers, or the lice of Egypt.

Good gentlemen, hear me. Are you officers,
And cannot stay this violence?

Keep the peace.

Gentlemen, what is the matter? Whom do you seek?

The chemical cozener.

And the Captain pander.

The nun my sister.

Madam Rabbi.

Scorpions,
And caterpillars.

Fewer at once, I pray you.

One after another, gentlemen, I charge you,
By virtue of my staff.

They are the vessels
Of pride, lust, and the cart.

Good zeal, lie still
A little while.

Peace, deacon Ananias.

The house is mine here, and the doors are open;
If there be any such persons as you seek for,
Use your authority, search on o’ God’s name.
I am but newly come to town, and finding
This tumult ’bout my door, to tell you true,
It somewhat mazed me; till my man, here, fearing
My more displeasure, told me he had done
Somewhat an insolent part, let out my house
(Belike, presuming on my known aversion
From any air o’ the town while there was sickness,)
To a Doctor and a Captain: who, what they are
Or where they be, he knows not.

Are they gone?

You may go in and search, sir.

Here, I 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,
And madam with a dildo writ o’ the walls:
Only one gentlewoman, I met here,
That is within, that said she was a widow⁠—

Ay, that’s my sister; I’ll go thump her. Where is she?

And should have married a Spanish Count, but he,
When he came to’t, neglected her so grossly,
That I, a widower, am gone through with her.

How! Have I lost her then?

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 umber 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!

The whole nest are fled!

What sort of birds were they?

A kind of choughs,
Or thievish daws, sir, that have picked my purse
Of eight score and ten pounds within these five weeks,
Beside my first materials; and my goods,
That lie in the cellar, which I am glad they have left,
I may have home yet.

Think you so, sir?

Ay.

By order of law, sir, but not otherwise.

Not mine own stuff!

Sir, I can take no knowledge
That they are yours, but by public means.
If you can bring certificate that you were gulled of them,
Or any formal writ out of a court,
That you did cozen yourself, I will not hold them.

I’ll rather lose them.

That you shall not, sir,
By me, in troth: upon these terms, they are yours.
What! Should they have been, sir, turned into gold, all?

No,
I cannot tell⁠—It may be they should.⁠—What then?

What a great loss in hope have you sustained!

Not I, the Commonwealth has.

Ay, he would have built
The city new; and made a ditch about it
Of silver, should have run with cream from Hogsden;
That every Sunday, in Moorfields, the younkers,
And tits and tomboys should have fed on, gratis.

I will go mount a turnip-cart, and preach
The end of the world, within these two months. Surly,
What! In a dream?

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 e’er I meet him.

If I can hear of him, sir, I’ll bring you word,
Unto your lodging; for in troth, they were strangers
To me, I thought them honest as myself, sir.

’Tis well, the saints shall not lose all yet. Go,
And get some carts⁠—

For what, my zealous friends?

To bear away the portion of the righteous
Out of this den of thieves.

What is that portion?

The goods sometimes the orphan’s, that the Brethren
Bought with their silver pence.

What, those in the cellar,
The knight Sir Mammon claims?

I do defy
The wicked Mammon, so do all the Brethren,
Thou profane man! I ask thee with what conscience
Thou canst advance that idol against us,
That have the seal? Were not the shillings numbered,
That made the pounds; were not the pounds told out,
Upon the second day of the fourth week,
In the eighth month, upon the table dormant,
The year of the last patience of the saints,
Six hundred and ten?

Mine earnest vehement botcher,
And deacon also, I cannot dispute with you:
But if you get you not away the sooner,
I shall confute you with a cudgel.

Sir!

Be patient, Ananias.

I am strong,
And will stand up, well girt, against an host
That threaten Gad in exile.

I shall send you
To Amsterdam, to your cellar.

I will pray there,
Against thy house: may dogs defile thy walls,
And wasps and hornets breed beneath thy roof,
This seat of falsehood, and this cave of cozenage!

Another too?

Not I, sir, I am no Brother.

Beats him. Away, you Harry Nicholas! Do you talk?

No, this was Abel Drugger. Good sir, go,

And satisfy him; tell him all is done:
He stayed too long a washing of his face.
The Doctor, he shall hear of him at Westchester;
And of the Captain, tell him, at Yarmouth, or
Some good port town else, lying for a wind.

If you can get off the angry child, now, sir⁠—

Come on, you ewe, you have matched most sweetly,
have you not?
Did not I say, I would never have you tupped
But by a dubbed boy, to make you a lady tom?
’Slight, you are a mammet! O, I could touse you, now.
Death, mun’ you marry, with a pox!

You lie, boy;
As sound as you; and I’m aforehand with you.

Anon!

Come, will you quarrel? I will feize you, sirrah;
Why do you not buckle to your tools?

Od’s light,
This is a fine old boy as e’er I saw!

What, do you change your copy now? Proceed;
Here stands my dove: stoop at her, if you dare.

’Slight, I must love him! I cannot choose, i’faith,
An I should be hanged for’t! Sister, I protest,
I honour thee for this match.

O, do you so, sir?

Yes, an thou canst take tobacco and drink, old boy,
I’ll give her five hundred pound more to her marriage,
Than her own state.

Fill a pipe full, Jeremy.

Yes; but go in and take it, sir.

We will⁠—
I will be ruled by thee in anything, Jeremy.

’Slight, thou art not hidebound, thou art a jovy boy!
Come, let us in, I pray thee, and take our whiffs.

Whiff in with your sister, brother boy.

That master
That had received such happiness by a servant,
In such a widow, and with so much wealth,
Were very ungrateful, if he would not be
A little indulgent to that servant’s wit,
And help his fortune, though with some small strain
Of his own candour.
Advancing.
—“Therefore, gentlemen,
And kind spectators, if I have outstript
An old man’s gravity, or strict canon, think
What a young wife and a good brain may do;
Stretch age’s truth sometimes, and crack it too.
Speak for thyself, knave.”

“So I will, sir.”

“Gentlemen,
My part a little fell in this last scene,
Yet ’twas decorum. And though I am clean
Got off from Subtle, Surly, Mammon, Dol,
Hot Ananias, Dapper, Drugger, all
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.”