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WITTIPOL. MANLY.

Come wife, this is the Gentleman. Nay, blu? h not.

M^rs. FI. Why, what do you meane Sir? ha' you your rea? on?

FIT. Wife,
I do not know, that I haue lent it forth
To any one; at lea? t, without a pawne, wife:
Or that I'haue eat or drunke the thing, of late, 5
That ? hould corrupt it. Wherefore gentle wife,
Obey, it is thy vertue: hold no acts
Of di? putation.

M^rs. FI. Are you not enough
The talke, of fea? ts, and meetingy, but you'll ? till
Make argument for fre? h?

FIT. Why, carefull wedlocke, 10
If I haue haue a longing to haue one tale more
Goe of mee, what is that to thee, deare heart?
Why ? hould? t thou enuy my delight? or cro? ? e it?
By being ? olicitous, when it not concernes thee?

M^rs. FI. Yes, I haue ? hare in this. The ? corne will fall 15
As bittterly on me, where both are laught at.

FIT. Laught at, ? weet bird? is that the ? cruple? Come, come,
Thou art a _Niai? e_.
_A_ Niai? e _is a young Hawke, tane crying out of the ne? t. _
Which of your great hou? es,
(I will not meane at home, here, but abroad)
Your families in _France_, wife, ? end not forth 20
Something, within the ? euen yeere, may be laught at?
I doe not ? ay ? euen moneths, nor ? euen weekes,
Nor ? euen daies, nor houres: but ? euen yeere wife.
I giue 'hem time. Once, within ? euen yeere,
I thinke they may doe ? omething may be laught at. 25
In _France_, I keepe me there, ? till. Wherefore, wife,
Let them that li? t, laugh ? till, rather then weepe
For me; Heere is a cloake co? t fifty pound, wife,
Which I can ? ell for thirty, when I ha' ? eene
All _London_ in't, and _London_ has ? eene mee. 30
To day, I goe to the _Black-fryers Play-hou? e_,
Sit ithe view, ? alute all my acquaintance,
Ri? e vp betweene the _Acts_, let fall my cloake,
Publi? h a hand? ome man, and a rich ? uite
(As that's a ? peciall end, why we goe thither, 35
All that pretend, to ? tand for't o' the _Stage_)
The Ladies aske who's that? (For, they doe come [106]
To ? ee vs, _Loue_, as wee doe to ? ee them)
Now, I ? hall lo? e all this, for the fal? e feare
Of being laught at? Yes, wu? ? e. Let 'hem laugh, wife, 40
Let me haue ? uch another cloake to morrow.
And let 'hem laugh againe, wife, and againe,
And then grow fat with laughing, and then fatter,
All my young Gallants, let 'hem bring their friends too:
Shall I forbid 'hem? No, let heauen forbid 'hem: 45
Or wit, if't haue any charge on 'hem. Come, thy eare, wife,
Is all, I'll borrow of thee. Set your watch, Sir,
Thou, onely art to heare, not ? peake a word, _Doue_,
To ought he ? ayes. That I doe gi' you in precept,
No le? ? e then councell, on your wiue-hood, wife, 50
Not though he flatter you, or make court, or _Loue_
(As you mu? t looke for the? e) or ? ay, he raile;
What ere his arts be, wife, I will haue thee
Delude 'hem with a trick, thy ob? tinate ? ilence;
I know aduantages; and I loue to hit 55
The? e pragmaticke young men, at their owne weapons.
Is your watch ready? Here my ? aile beares, for you:
Tack toward him, ? weet _Pinnace_, where's your watch?

_He di? po? es his wife to his place, and ? ets his watch. _

WIT. I'le ? et it. Sir, with yours.

M^rs. FI. I mu? t obey.

MAN. Her mode? ty ? eemes to ? uffer with her beauty, 60
And ? o, as if his folly were away,
It were worth pitty.

FIT. Now, th'are right, beginne, Sir.
But fir? t, let me repeat the contract, briefely.
_Hee repeats his contract againe. _
I am, Sir, to inioy this cloake, I ? tand in,
Freely, and as your gift; vpon condition 65
You may as freely, ? peake here to my ? pou? e,
Your quarter of an houre alwaies keeping
The mea? ur'd di? tance of your yard, or more,
From my ? aid Spou? e: and in my ? ight and hearing.
This is your couenant?

WIT. Yes, but you'll allow 70
For this time ? pent, now?

FIT. Set 'hem ? o much backe.

WIT. I thinke, I ? hall not need it.

FIT. Well, begin, Sir,
There is your bound, Sir. Not beyond that ru? h.

WIT. If you interrupt me, Sir, I ? hall di? cloake you.
Wittipol _beginnes_.
The time I haue purcha? t, Lady, is but ? hort; 75
And, therefore, if I imploy it thriftily,
I hope I ? tand the neerer to my pardon.
I am not here, to tell you, you are faire,
Or louely, or how well you dre? ? e you, Lady,
I'll ? aue my ? elfe that eloquence of your gla? ? e, 80
Which can ? peake these things better to you then I.
And 'tis a knowledge, wherein fooles may be
As wi? e as a _Count Parliament_. Nor come I,
With any preiudice, or doubt, that you [107]
Should, to the notice of your owne worth, neede 85
Lea? t reuelation. Shee's a ? imple woman,
Know's not her good: (who euer knowes her ill)
And at all caracts. That you are the wife,
To ? o much bla? ted fle? h, as ? carce hath ? oule,
In ? tead of ? alt, to keepe it ? weete; I thinke, 90
Will aske no witne? ? es, to proue. The cold
Sheetes that you lie in, with the watching candle,
That ? ees, how dull to any thaw of beauty,
Pieces, and quarters, halfe, and whole nights, ? ometimes,
The Diuell-giuen _Elfine_ Squire, your husband, 95
Doth leaue you, quitting heere his proper circle,
For a much-wor? e i' the walks of _Lincolnes Inne_,
Vnder the Elmes, t'expect the feind in vaine, there
Will confe? ? e for you.

FIT. I did looke for this geere.

WIT.
And what a daughter of darkne? ? e, he do's make you, 100
Lock'd vp from all ? ociety, or object;
Your eye not let to looke vpon a face,
Vnder a Conjurers (or ? ome mould for one,
Hollow, and leane like his) but, by great meanes,
As I now make; your owne too ? en? ible ? ufferings, 105
Without the extraordinary aydes,
Of ? pells, or ? pirits, may a? ? ure you, Lady.
For my part, I prote? t 'gain? t all ? uch practice,
I worke by no fal? e arts, medicines, or charmes
To be said forward and backward.

FIT. No, I except: 110

WIT. Sir I ? hall ease you.

_He offers to di? cloake him. _

FIT. Mum.

WIT. Nor haue I ends, Lady,
Vpon you, more then this: to tell you how _Loue_
Beauties good Angell, he that waits vpon her
At all occa? ions, and no le? ? e then _Fortune_,
Helps th' aduenturous, in mee makes that proffer, 115
Which neuer faire one was ? o fond, to lo? e;
Who could but reach a hand forth to her freedome:
On the fir? t ? ight, I lou'd you: ? ince which time,
Though I haue trauell'd, I haue beene in trauell
More for this second blessing of your eyes 120
Which now I'haue purchas'd, then for all aymes el? e.
Thinke of it, Lady, be your minde as actiue,
As is your beauty: view your object well.
Examine both my fa? hion, and my yeeres;
Things, that are like, are ? oone familiar: 125
And Nature ioyes, ? till in equality.
Let not the ? igne o' the husband fright you, Lady.
But ere your ? pring be gone, inioy it. Flowers,
Though faire, are oft but of one morning. Thinke,
All beauty doth not la? t vntill the _autumne_. 130
You grow old, while I tell you this. And ? uch, [108]
As cannot v? e the pre? ent, are not wi? e.
If Loue and Fortune will take care of vs,
Why ? hould our will be wanting? This is all.
What doe you an? wer, Lady?

_Shee stands mute. _

FIT. Now, the sport comes. 135
Let him ? till waite, waite, waite: while the watch goes,
And the time runs. Wife!

WIT. How! not any word?
Nay, then, I ta? te a tricke in't. Worthy Lady,
I cannot be ? o fal? e to mine owne thoughts
Of your pre? umed goodne? ? e, to conceiue 140
This, as your rudene? ? e, which I ? ee's impos'd.
Yet, ? ince your cautelous _Iaylor_, here ? tands by you,
And yo' are deni'd the liberty o' the hou? e,
Let me take warrant, Lady, from your ? ilence,
(Which euer is interpreted con? ent) 145
To make your an? wer for you: which ? hall be
To as good purpo? e, as I can imagine,
And what I thinke you'ld ? peake.

FIT. No, no, no, no.

WIT. I ? hall re? ume, S^r.

MAN. Sir, what doe you meane?

_He ? ets_ M^r. Manly, _his friend, in her place_.

WIT. One interruption more, Sir, and you goe 150
Into your ho? e and doublet, nothing ? aues you.
And therefore harken. This is for your wife.

MAN. You mu? t play faire, S^r.

WIT. Stand for mee, good friend.
_And ? peaks for her. _
Troth, Sir, tis more then true, that you haue vttred
Of my vnequall, and ? o ? ordide match heere, 155
With all the circum? tances of my bondage.
I haue a husband, and a two-legg'd one,
But ? uch a moon-ling, as no wit of man
Or ro? es can redeeme from being an A? ? e.
H'is growne too much, the ? tory of mens mouthes, 160
To ? cape his lading: ? hould I make't my ? tudy,
And lay all wayes, yea, call mankind to helpe,
To take his burden off, why, this one act
Of his, to let his wife out to be courted,
And, at a price, proclaimes his a? inine nature 165
So lowd, as I am weary of my title to him.
But Sir, you ? eeme a Gentleman of vertue,
No le? ? e then blood; and one that euery way
Lookes as he were of too good quality,
To intrap a credulous woman, or betray her: 170
Since you haue payd thus deare, Sir, for a vi? it,
And made ? uch venter, on your wit, and charge
Meerely to ? ee mee, or at mo? t to ? peake to mee,
I were too ? tupid; or (what's wor? e) ingrate
Not to returne your venter. Thinke, but how, 175
I may with ? afety doe it; I ? hall tru? t
My loue and honour to you, and pre? ume;
You'll euer hu? band both, again? t this hu? band; [109]
Who, if we chance to change his liberall eares,
To other en? ignes, and with labour make 180
A new bea? t of him, as hee ? hall de? erue,
Cannot complaine, hee is vnkindly dealth with.
This day hee is to goe to a new play, Sir.
From whence no feare, no, nor authority,
Scarcely the _Kings_ command, Sir, will re? traine him, 185
Now you haue fitted him with a _Stage_-garment,
For the meere names ? ake, were there nothing el? e:
And many more ? uch iourneyes, hee will make.
Which, if they now, or, any time heereafter,
Offer vs opportunity, you heare, Sir, 190
Who'll be as glad, and forward to imbrace,
Meete, and enioy it chearefully as you.
I humbly thanke you, Lady.

_Hee ? hifts to his owne place againe_

FIT. Keepe your ground Sir.

WIT. Will you be lightned?

FIT. Mum.

WIT. And but I am,
By the ? ad contract, thus to take my leaue of you 195
At this ? o enuious distance, I had taught
Our lips ere this, to ? eale the happy mixture
Made of our ? oules. But we mu? t both, now, yeeld
To the nece? ? ity. Doe not thinke yet, Lady,
But I can ki? ? e, and touch, and laugh, and whi? per, 200
And doe those crowning court-? hips too, for which,
Day, and the publike haue allow'd no name
But, now, my bargaine binds me. 'Twere rude iniury,
T'importune more, or vrge a noble nature,
To what of it's owne bounty it is prone to: 205
El? e, I ? hould ? peake--But, Lady, I loue ? o well,
As I will hope, you'll doe ? o to. I haue done, Sir.

FIT. Well, then, I ha' won?

WIT. Sir, And I may win, too.

FIT. O yes! no doubt on't. I'll take carefull order,
That ? hee ? hall hang forth en? ignes at the window, 210
To tell you when I am ab? ent. Or I'll keepe
Three or foure foote-men, ready ?