Wild. Must we creep?

A

Wanton. Yes, yes, down upon your knees, always,// till you get a woman, and then stand up for the cause: stay, let me shake my smock over you for luck's sakeni Jolly. Why so? 1) thrive.obje you warrant

Parson. A

pox take you, I'll pare your nails when I from this place once.

get you from

W

Wanton. Sweetheart, sweetheart, off with your shoes. Parson. Ay, with all my heart, there's an old shoe after you. Would I gave all in my shop the rest were furnished with wives too!

*

Jolly. Parson, the sun is rising; go sendin the fidlers, and set the cook on work; let him chop soundly,

Parson. I have a tithe pig at home, I'll e'en sacrifice it to the wedding. [Exit Parson Wanton. They will find them in good posture, they may take privy marks if they please; for they said it was so hot they could endure no clothes, and my simplicity was so diligent to lay them naked, and with such twists and turns fastened them to the feet, I'll answer for't they fir find not the way into them in an hour. spot Enter SERVANT and PARSON.

Jolly. Why then they may pull up their smocks, and hide their faces.

१

Servant. Master Jolly there was one without would

you.

Speak with y

Jolly. Who was it?

Servant. It is the lady that talks so well

Jolly. They say, indeed, she has an excellent tongue; I would she had chang'd it for a face; 'tis she that has been handsome.

Parson. Who, not the poetess we met at Mr. Sad's?! Jolly. Yes, the same.

Parson. Sure she's mad.

Jolly, Pr'ythee tell her I am gone to bed, *19*

To fing an old shoe after a person to produce good luck, is a still spoken of and hardly yet disused. It is mentioned in et 2, sc, m

stoient writers: as in The Wild Goose Chase, Act

If ye see us close once,

bis Begone, and leave me to my fortune suddenly, de tod For I am then determin'd to do wonders.→ Farewell, and fling an old shoe."

1.

'd

Servant. I have done as well, sir! Ptold her Mrs. Wanton was here at which discretly, being touch' with the guilt of her face, she threw out a curse or two, and retreated! 10 0 19 me ym seda 9 Wanton. Who is this you speak of? I will know whois! elica Joy fisq Hoy let zoq A MOD Parson. Why 'tis she that married the Genoa mer gathey cozen'd one another. 1169d Wanton, Who? Peg Driver, bugle-eyes?

chant they coz

2

Jolly The same, the same. R
Wanton. Why, she is ugly now? viw diw badelam}
Parson. Yes; but I have known her, by

this

hand,

: when

as fine a Wench as ever sinn'd in town or suburbs who I knew her first, she was the original of all the wains-, coat chamber-maids with brooms, and bare-foot madams you see sold at Temple-bar and the Exchange. Wanton. Ah! th'art a devil! how could'st thou find in thy heart to abuse her so? Thou loy'st antiquities

02.26W

too the very memory that she hadst antiquities

been

should have pleaded something. Jolly. Was handsome, signifies nothing to me!lý ƒ'10} Wanton. But she's a wit, and a wench of an excel lent discourse."D.fiqo lag 760179di irodi za

Parson. And as good company as any's Pth town bin Jolly. Company! for whom, Leather-ears, his majesty of Newgate-watch? There her story will do well while 31 zaw od pol they louse themselves. Parson. Well, you are curious now, but the time wa when you skipp'd for a kiss. bosby

wit, ahow was

Jolly. Prythee, Parson, no more of dipl handsome; but let us keep to this text-[he kisses Wanton] and with joy think upon thy little Wanton here, that's kind, soft, sweet, and sound these are epithets for a mistress, nor is there any elegancy in a woman like it. Give me such a naked scene to study night and day bob care not for her tongue, so her face be good. Amwhore, dress'd in verse, and set tempts me e no more to that sweet sin, than the statute of whipping can keep me from it. This thing we talk’d on, which retains nothing but the name of what she 690ne bio mu quilt ben lewars

was, is not only poetical in her discourse, but her tears and her love, her health, nay her pleasure, were all fictions, and had scarce any live flesh about her till I administer'd.

Parson. Indeed, 'tis time she set out, and gave others leave to play; for a reverend whore is an unseemly sight: besides it makes the sin malicious, which is but venial else.

Wanton. Sure he'll make a case of conscience on't: you should do well (sweetheart) to recommend her case to your brethren that attend the committee of affection, that they may order her to be sound and young again, for the good of the commonwealth.

ACT V. SCENE I.

Enter FIDLERS, JOLLY, and WANTON.

Jolly. Oh, are you ready? are you ready?

Fidlers. Yes, an't like your worship.

Jolly. And did you bid the cook chop lustily, and make a noise?

Fidlers. Yes, sir, he's at it.

Wanton. I hear the Captain.

Enter the CAPTAIN.

Jolly. Have you brought clothes and ribands? Captain. Yes, yes, all is ready: Did you hear them squeak yet?

Wanton. No, by this light: I think 'tis an appointment, and we have been all abused.

Captain. Give the fidlers their ribands, and carry the rest in. Mrs. Wanton you must play my lady's woman to-day, and mince it to all that come, and hold up your head finely when they kiss you; and take heed of swearing when you are angry, and pledging whole cups when they drink to you.

Wanton. I'll warrant you, for my part.

Captain, Go, get you in then, and let your husband dip the rosemary27.

Jolly. Is all ready?

Captain. All, all; some of the company are below already. I have so blown it about, one porter is gone to the Exchange to invite Mr. Wild's merchant to his wedding, and, by the way, to bid two or three fruiterers to send in fruit for such a wedding; another in my 'lady's name to Sall's for sweet-meats: I swore at Bradborn in his shop myself, that I wondered he would disappoint Mr. Wild for his points, and having so long warning; he protested 'twas not his fault, but they were ready, and he would send John with them presently. One of the watermen is gone to the Melon garden; the other to Cook's at the Bear, for some bottles of his best wine; and thence to Gracious-street to the poulterer's, and all with directions to send in provisions for Mr. Wild's wedding. And who should I meet at the door, but apricock Tom and Mary, waiting to speak with her young master! they came to beg that they might serve the feast: I promised them they should, if they would cry it up and down the town, to bring company, for Mr. Wild was resolved to keep open

house.

Jolly. Why, then here will be witnesses enough.

Captain. But who should I meet at the corner of the Piazza, but Joseph Taylor 28! he tells me, there's a new play at the Friars to-day, and I have bespoke a box for Mr. Wild and his bride.

Jolly. And did not he wonder to hear he was married.

Captain. Yes; but I told him 'twas a match his aunt made for him when he was abroad.

Jolly. And I have spread it sufficiently at court, by sending to borrow plate for such a wedding.

27 Rosemary.] See note 50 to A Match at Midnight, Vol. VII. 28 Joseph Taylor.] One of the original actors in the plays of Shakspeare. See an account of him in "A Dialogue on Plays and Players," Vol. I.

Servant. There's half a dozen coach-fulls of company lighted they call for the bride-laces and points

Captain. Let the fidlers play then, and bid God give them joy by the name of my lady Careless and Mrs.

Wild.

Fidlers. Where shall we play, sir? ToⱭ wobil Jolly. Come with us, we'll shew you the window.

SCENE II.

1

bus 49191 [The fidlers play in the tiring-room; and the stage curtains are drawn, and discover a chamber, as it were, with two beds, and the ladies asleep in them; Mr. Wild being at Mrs. Pleasant's bed-side, and Mr. Careless at the Widow's. The musick awakes the widow,

Widow. Niece, niece, niece Pleasant. 3;O། wilt nod [She opens the e curtain and calls her she is under

а сапору. Pleasant. Ha! I hear you, I hear you; what would you have?

1 ་ Widow, Do you not hear the fidlers?!

Pleasant. Yes, yes; but you have wak'd me from the finest dream

smits.1102

Widow. A dream! what was't, some knavery? Pleasant. Why, I know not, but 'twas merry e'ent as pleasing as some sins. Well, I'll lie no more in a man's bed, for fear I lose more than I get. ei Wild. Hark! that's a new tune. 103 amit 1006 Pleasant. Yes, and they play it well. This is your jaunty nephew: I would he had less of the father in him, I'd venture to dream out my dream with him, o my conscience he's worth a dozen of my dull servant : that's such a troublesome visitant, without any kind of conveniency videiloer CAW! 7m 79 Impa v gj¶

Widow, Ay, ay, so are all of that kind; give me your subject lover; those you call servants are but troubles, I confess, in redTob Ideal s Pleasant. What is the difference pray, betwixt a subject and a servant lovers to no

W