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sir ?

John. Ay, sir, with all my heart. How, Con- but for certain this is that very self-same Constantia ! Madam, now you have seen that lady, stantia that thou and I so long looked after. I hope you will pardon the haste you met me in John. I thought she was something more than a little while ago; if I have committed a fault ordinary; but shall I tell thee now a stranger you must thank her for it.

thing than all this? Con. Sir, if you will for her sake be persuaded Fred. What's that? to protect me from the violence of my brother, I John. Why, I will never more touch any other shall have reason to thank you both.

woman for her sake. John. Nay, madam, now that I am in my wits Fred. Well, I submit ; that indeed is stranger. again, and my heart's at ease, it shall go very 2 Con. Come, mother, deliver your purse; I hard, but I will see yours so too. I was before have delivered up myself to this young fellow, distracted, and 'tis not strange the love of and the bargain's made with that old fellow, so her should hinder me from remembering what he may have his gold again, that all shall be was due to you, since it made me forget myself. well.

Con. Sir, I do know too well the power of Moth. As I'm a Christian, sir, I took it away love by my own experience, not to pardon all only to have the honour of restoring it again ; the effects of it in another.

for my hard fate having not bestowed upon me Ant. Well then, I promise you, if you will but a fund which might capacitate me to make you help me to my gold again (I mean that which presents of my own, I had no way left for the exyou and your mother stule out of my trunk) that ercise of my generosity but by putting myself inI'll never trouble you more.

to a condition of giving back what was yours. 2 Con. A match; and 'tis the best that you Ant. A very generous design indeed! So now and I could ever make.

I'll e'en turn a sober person, and leave off' wenchJohn. Pray, madam, fear nothing ; by my love ing, and this fighting, for I begin to find it does I'll stand by you, and see that your brother shall not agree with me. do you no harm.

Fred. Madam, I'm heartily glad to see your 2 Con. Hark ye, sir, a word; how dare you ladyship here; we have been in a very great distalk of love, or standing by any lady but me, order since we saw you. What's here, our land

lady and the child again ! John. By my troth that was a fault; but I did not mean in your way, I meant it only civilly.

Enter Duke, PETRUCHIO, and Landlady with 2 Con. Ay, but if you are so very civil 2 gen

the Child. tleman, we shall not be long friends. I scorn to Petr. Yes, we met her going to be whipped, share your love with any one whatsoever: and in a drunken constable's hands that took her for my part, I'm resolved either to have all or for another. nothing.

John. Why then, pray let her e'en be taken John. Well, my dear little rogue, thou shalt and whipped for herself, for on my word she dehave it all presently, as soon as we can but get

serves it. rid of this company.

Land. Yes, I'm sure of your good word at 2 Con. Phoo! you are always abusing me.

Con. Hark ye, dear landlady.
Enter FREDERICK and Mother.

Land. O, sweet goodness! is it you? I have Fred. Come, now, madam, let us not speak one becn in such a peck of troubles since I saw you; word more, but go quietly about our business ; they took me, and they tunbled me, and they not but that I think it the greatest pleasure in hauled me, and they pulled me, and they called theworld to hear you talk, but

me painted Jezabel, and the poor little babe here Moth. Do you indeed, sir? I swear then good did so take on. Come bither, my lord, come hiwits jump, sir; for I have thought so myself a ther; here is Constantia. very great while.

Con. For Heaven's sake, peace ! yonder is my Fred. You've all the reason imaginable. 0, brother, and if he discovers me, I'm certainly Don John, I ask thy pardon, but I hope I shall ruined. make thee amends, for I have found out the mo- Duke. No, madam, there is no danger. ther, and she has promised me to help thee to Con. Were there a thousand dangers in those thy mistress again.

arms, I would run thus to meet them. John. Sir, you may save your labour, the busi- Duke. O, my dear, it were not safe that any ness is done, and I am fully satisfied.

should be here at present ; for now my heart is Fred. And dost thou know who she is ? so o’erpressed with joy, that I should scarce be John. No, faith, I never asked her name. able to defend thee.

Fred. Why, then, I'll make thee yet more Petr. Sister, I'm so asham'd of all the faults satisfied; this lady here is that very "Constan- which my mistake has made me guilty of, that I tia

know not how to ask your pardon for them. John. Ha! thou hast not a mind to be knock- Con. No, brother, the fault was mine in misa ed o'er the pate too, hast thou ?

taking you so much, as not to impart the whole Fred. No, sir, nor dare you do it neither : | truth to you at first; but having begun my love

any time.



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PERHAPS you, gentlemen, expect to-day, Besides the author dreads the strut and mien The author of this fag end of a play,

Of new.prais’d poets, having often seen According to the modern way of wit,

Some of his fellows, who have writ before, Should strive to be before-hand with the pit ; When Nell has danc'd her jig, steal to the door, Begin to rail at you, and subtly too,

Hear the pit clap, and with conceit of that, Prevent th' affront, by giving the first blow. Swell, and believe themselves the lord knows He wants not precedents, which often sway

what. In matters far more weighty than a play: Most writers now-a-days are grown so vain, But he, no grave admirer of a rule,

That once approv'd, they write, and write again, Won't by example learn to play the fool. Till they have writ away the fame they got. The end of plays should be to entertain, Our friend this way of writing fancies not, And not to keep the auditors in pain.

And hopes you will not tempt him with your Giving our price, and for what trash we please,

praise, He thinks, the play being done, you should have To rank himself with some that write new plays;

For he knows ways enough to be undone,
No wit, no sense, no freedom, and a box, Without the help of poetry for onca
Is much like paying money for the stocks.







WELLDO, a Parson. LOVELL, an English Lord.

TAPWELL, an Alehouse-keeper,
Sir Giles OVERREACH, a cruel Extortioner.

Three Creditors.
WELLBORN, a Prodigal.
ALLWORTH, a young Gentleman, Page to Lord


Lady ALLWORTH, a rich Widow.
GREEDY, a hungry Justice of Peace.

MARGARET, Overreach's Daughter.
MARRALL, a Perm-drider, a Creature of Sir FROTH, Tapwell's Wife.


Servants to the Lady ALLWORTH.


SCENE,“A County in England.


Tap. Troth, durst I trust you with a lookingSCENE I.-The Outside of a Village Alehouse.


To let you see your trim shape, you would quit WELLBORN, TAPWELL, FROTH.

me, Well . No bouse? nor no tobacco?

And take the name yourself. Tap. Not a suck, sir ;

Well. How, dog! Not the remainder of a single can,

Tap. Even so, sir. Left by a drunken porter; all night palled, too. And I must tell you, if you but advance Froth. Not the dropping of the tap for your Your Plymouth cloak, you shall be soon inmorning's draught, sir:


There dwells, and within call, if it please your Well. Verity, you brach!

Rogue, what am I ? | A potent monarch called a constable,

Tis verity, I assure you.


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That does command a citadel, called the stocks; Humbled myself to marriage with my Froth here ;
Whose guards are certain files of rusty billmen, Gave entertainment-
Such as, with great dexterity, will haul

Well. Yes, to whores and canters,
Your tattered lousy-

Clubbers by night. Well. Rascal ! slave!

Tap. True, but they brought in profit, Froth. No rage, sir.

And had a gift to pay for what they called for; Tap. At his own peril! Do not put yourself And stuck not like your mastership. The poor In too much heat, there being no water near

income To quench your thirst; and sure, for other liquor, I gleaned from them hath made me in my parish As mighty ale, or beer, they are things, I take it, Thougļit worthy to be scavenger; and, in time, You must no more remember; not in a dream, sir. May rise to be overseer of the poor ; Well. Why, thou unthankful villain, dar’st thou Which, if I do, on your petition, Wellborn, talk thus ?


allow you thirteen pence a quarter ; Is not thy house, and all thou hast, my gift?


shall thank my worship.
Tap. I find it not in chalk; and Timothy Tap- Well. Thus, you dog-bolt-

And thus

[Beats him. Does keep no other register.

Tap. Cry out for help! Well. Am not I he

Well. Stir, and thou diest : Whose riots fed and clothed thee? Wert thou not Your potent prince, the constable, shall not save Born on my father's land, and proud to be

you. A drudge in his house?

Hear me, ungrateful hell-hound ! did not I Tap. What I was, sir, it skills not ;

Make purses for you? then you licked my boots, What you are, is apparcnt. Now for a farewell : And thought your holiday cloak too coarse to Since you talk of father, in my hope it will tor

clean them. ment you,

'Twas I, that when I heard thee swear, if ever I'll briefly tell your story. Your dead father, Thou could'st arrive at forty pounds, thou My quondam master, was a man of worship;

would'st Old sir John Wellborn, justice of peace and quo. Live like an emperor; 'twas I that gave it, rum,

In ready gold. Deny this, wretch ! And stood fair to be custos rotulorum;

Tup. I must, sir, Bore the whole sway of the shire; kept a great For, from the tavern to the tap-house, all, house;

On forfeiture of their licences, stand bound Relieved the poor, and so forth; but he dying, Never to remember who their best guests were, And the twelve hundred a-year coming to you, If they grew poor like you. Late Master Francis, but now forlorn Wellborn Well. They are well rewarded

Well. Slave, stop! or I shall lose myself. That beggar themselves to make such cuckolds Froth. Very hardly;

rich. You cannot out of your way.

Thou viper, thankless viper ! impudent bawd ! Tap. But to my story :

But since you are grown forgetful, I will help You were then a lord of acres, the prime gallant, Your memory, and tread thee into mortar; And I your under-butler: note the change now. Not leave one bone unbroken. (Beats him again. You had a merry time of't; hawks and hounds;

Tap. Oh! With choice of running horses: mistresses

Froth. Ask mercy! Of all sorts and all sizes; yet so hot,

Well. 'Twill not be granted. As their embraces made your lordships melt:

Enter ALLWORTH. Which your uncle, sir Giles Overreach, observing, (Resolving not to lose a drop of them)

Allu. Hold, for my sake, hold ! On foolish mortgages, statutes, and bonds, Deny me, Frank? they are not worth your anger. For a while supplied your looseness, and then Well. For once thou hast redeemed them from

this sceptre :

[Shaking his cudgel. Well. Some curate has penned this invective, But let them vanish, creeping on their knees;

And if they grumble, I revoke my pardon. And you have studied it.

Froth. This comes of your prating, husband; Tup. I have not done yet.

you presumed Your lands gone, and your credit not worth a On your ambling wit, and must use your glib token,

tongue, You grew the common borrower; no man’scaped Though you are beaten lame for't. Your paper pellets, from the gentleman

Tap. Patience, Froth; To the beggars on highways, that sold you There's law to cure our bruises. switches

[They go off on their hands and knees. In your gallantry.

Well. Sent to your mother? ivell. I shall switch your brains out.

Allu. My lady, Frank, my patroness ! my all ! Tap. While poor Tim Tapwell, with a little She's such a mourner for my father's death, stock,

And, in her love to him, so favours me, Some forty pounds or so, bought a small cottage ; That I cannot pay too much observance to ber.


left yoll.


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There are few such stepdames.

Well. Grant this true,
Well, 'Tis a noble widow,

As I believe it ; canst thou ever hope
And keeps her reputation pure, and clear "To enjoy a quiet bed with her, whose fatlier
From the least taint of infamy: her life, Ruined thy state?
With the splendour of her actions, leaves no Allw. And yours too.

Well. I confess it.
To envy or detraction. Pr’ythee, tell me; True; I must tell you as a friend, and freely,
Has she no suitors ?

That, where impossibilities are apparent, Allæ. Even the best of the shire, Frank, 'Tis indiscretion to nourish hopes. My lord excepted : such as sue, and send, Canst thon imagine (let not self-love blind thee) And send, and sue again; but to no purpose. That sir Giles Overreach (that to make her great Their frequent visits have not gained her pre- In swelling titles, without touch of conscience, sence;

Will cut his neighbour's throat, and I hope his Yet she's so far from sullenness and pride,

own too) That I dare undertake you shall meot from her Will e'er consent to make her thine? Give o'er, A liberal entertainment. I can give you

And think of some course suitable to thy rank, A catalogue of her suitors' names.

And prosper in it. Well. Forbear it,

Allw. You have well advised me; While I give you good counsel. I am bound But, in the mean time, you, that are so studious to it.

Of my affairs, wholly neglect your own. Thy father was my friend; and that affection Remember yourself, and in what plight you are. I bore to him, in right descends to tlree :

Well. No matter, no matter. Thou art a handsome and a hopeful youth, Allu. Yes, 'tis much material : Nor will I have the least affront stick on thee, You know my fortune, and my means; yet some If I with any danger can prevent it.

thing Allw. I thank your noble care; but, pray you, I can spare from myself

, to help your wants. in what

Weli. How's this? Do I run the hazard ?

Allw. Nay, be not angry. There's eight pieces, Well. Art thou not in love?

To put you in better fashion. Put it not off with wonder.

Well. Money from theo ? Allw. In love, at my years?

From a boy, a stipendiary? one that lives Well. You think you walk in clouds, but are At the devotion of a step-mother, transparent.

And the uncertain favour of a lord ? I have heard all, and the choice that you have I'll eat my arms first. Howsoe'er blind fortune made;

Hath spent the utmost of her malice on me'; And, with my finger, can point out the north star Though I am vomited out of an alehouse, By which the loadstone of your folly's guided. And thus accoutred; know not where to eat, And, to confirm this true, what think ye of Or drink, or sleep, but enderneath this canopy ; Fair Margaret, the only child and heir

Although I thank thee, I despise thy offer. Of cormorant Overreach? Dost blush and start, And as I, in my madness, broke ny state, To hear her only named? Blush at your want Without the assistance of another's brain, Of wit and reason.

In my right wits I'll piece it; at the worst, Allu. You are too bitter, sir.

Die thus, and be forgotten. Well. Wounds of this nature are not to be Allw. A strange humour! (Excunt severally.

cured With balms, but corrosives. I must be plain : SCENE II.-A Chumber in Lady ALLWORTH'S Art thou scarce manumized from the porter's

House. lodge, And yet sworn servant to the pantoffle,

Enter ORDER, AMBLE, FURNACE, and WATCHAnd dar'st thou dream of marriage ? -I fear

Order. Set all things right, or, as my name is 'Twill be concluded for impossible,

Order, That there is now, or e'er shall be hereafter, And by this staff of office that commands you, A handsome page, or player's boy of fourteen, This chain, and double ruff, symbols of power, But either loves a wench, or drabs love him; Whoever misses in his function, Court-waiters not exempted.

For one whole week makes forfeiture of his break, Allw. This is madness.

fast, Howe'er you have discovered my intents, And privilege in the wine cellar. You know my aims are lawful; and if ever Amble. You are merry, The queen of flowers, the glory of the spring, Good master steward. The sweetest comfort to our smell, the rose, Furn. Let him; I'll be angry. Sprang from an envious briar, I may infer, Amble. Why, fellow Furnace, 'tis not twelve There's such disparity in their conditions,

o'clock yet, Between the goddess of my soul, the daughter, Nor dinner taking up; then 'tis allowed And the base churl, her father.

Cooks, by their places, may be choleric.


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