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A pox of come a five, what fhall I do ?
I can borrow no more of my Credit:

There's not any of my acquaintance, Man not Boy,
But I have borrowed more or lefs of

I would I knew where to take a good Purse,
And go clear away, by this Light I'll venture for it.
Gods lid my Sifter Delia,

I'll rob her, by this Hand.

Enter Delia and Artichoak.

Del. I prethee, Artichoak, go not to faft, The Weather is hot, and I am fomething weary.

Art. Nay I warrant you, Mistress Delia, I'll not. tire you With leading, we'll go an extream moderate pace. Flow. Stand, deliver your Purse. Art. O Lord, Thieves, Thieves.

[Exit Artichoak.

Flow. Come, come, your Purfe, Lady, your Purse. Del. That Voice I have heard often before this time, What, Brother Flowerdale become a Thief?

Flow. Ay, plague on't, I thank your Father But Sifter, come, your Mony, come :

What the World muft find me, I am born to live, 'Tis not a Sin to steal, when none will give.

Del. O God, is all Grace banisht from thy Heart, Think of the Shame that doth attend this Fact.

Flow. Shame me no Shames, come give me your Purfe; I'll bind you, Sifter, left I fare the worfe.

Del. No, bind me not, hold, there is all I have, And would that Mony would redeem thy Shame. Enter Oliver, Sir Arthur, and Artichoak.

Art. Thieves, Thieves, Thieves.

Oli. Thieves, where Man? why how now, Mistress Delia. Ha you a liked to been a robbed?

Del. No, Mafter Oliver, 'tis Mafter Flowerdale, he did but jeft with me.

Oli. How, Flowerdale, that Scoundrel? Sirrah, you meten us well, vang the that.

Flow. Well, Sir, I'll not meddle with you, because I have a Charge.

Del. Here Brother Flowerdale, I'll lend you this fame Mony.

Flow. I thank

you, Sifter.

C

Oli. I wad you were yfplit, and you let the Mezel have a Penny; but fince you cannot keep it, chil keep it my felf. Arth. 'Tis pity to relieve him in this fort, Who makes a triumphant Life his daily fport.

Del. Brother, you fee how all Men cenfure you, Farewel, and I pray God amend your Life.

Oli. Come, chil bring you along, and you fafe enough From twenty fuch Scoundrels as thick an one is, Farewel and be hanged, zyrrah, as I think fo thou Wilt be shortly; come, Sir Arthur.

Exeunt all but Flowerdale.
Flow. A plague go with you for a karfie Rascal;
This Devonshire Man I think is made all of Pork,
His Hands made only for to heave up Packs:
His Heart as fat and big as his Face,

As differing far from all brave gallant Minds,
As I to ferve the Hogs, and drink with Hinds,
As I am very near now; well what remedy,
When Money, Means, and Friends, do grow fo fmall,
Then farewel Life, and there's an end of all.

[Exit. Enter young Flowerdale's Father, Luce like a Dutch Frow, Civet and his Wife Frances.

Civ. By my troth God a Mercy for this, good Chriftopher, I thank thee for my Maid, like her very well, how doft thou like her, Frances?

Fran. In good Sadness, Tom, very well, excellent well, She fpeaks fo prettily, I pray what's your Name?

Luce. My name, forfooth, be called Tanikin.

Fran. By my troth a fine Name: O Tanikin, you are ex cellent for dreffing ones Head a new Fashion. Luce. Me fall do every ting about da Head. Civ. What Countrywoman is fhe, Kester ? Fath. A Dutch Woman, Sir.

Civ. Why then she is outlandish, is she not?

Fath. Ay, Sir, fhe is.

Fran. O then thou canst tell how to help me to Cheeks and Ears ?

Luce. Yes, Mistress, very well.

Fath. Cheeks and Ears, why, Mistress Frances, want you Checks and Ears? methinks you have very fair ones.

Fran.

Fran. Thou art a Fool indeed, Tom, thou knoweft what

I mean.

Civ. Ay, ay, Kefter, 'tis fuch as they wear a their Heads,
I prithee, Kit, have her in, and fhew her my House.
Fath. I will, Sir; come Tanikin.

Fran. O Tom, you have not buffed me to day, Tom.
Civ. No Frances, we must not kifs afore Folks,

God fave my Franck.

Enter Delia and Artichoak.

See yonder, my Sifter Delia is come, welcome, good Sifter. Fran. Welcome, good Sifter, how do you like the Tire of my Head?

Del. Very well, Sifter.

Civ. I am glad you're come, Sifter Delia, to give order for Supper, they will be here foon.

Art. Ay, but if good luck had not ferv'd, fhe had Not been here now, filching Flowerdale had like

To pepper'd us, but for Mafter Oliver, we had been robb'd. Del. Peace, firrah, no more.

Fath. Robb'd! by whom?

Art. Marry by none but by Flowerdale, he is turn'd Thief.

Civ. By my Faith, but that is not well, but God be prais'd For your Escape, will you draw near, Sifter?

Fath. Sirrah, come hither, would Flowerdale, he that was my Master, a robbed you, I prethee tell me true?

Art. Yes i'Faith, even that Flowerdale that was thy Master.

Fath. Hold thee, there is a French Crown, and fpeak no more of this.

In

Art. Not I, not a word, now do I fmell Knavery:
every Purfe Flowerdale takes, he is half :
And gives me this to keep Counsel, not a word I.
Fath. Why God a Mercy.

Fran. Sifter, look here, I have a new Dutch Maid,
And the fpeaks fo fine, it would do your Heart good.
Civ. How do you like her, Sifter?

Del. I like your Maid well.

Civ. Well, dear Sifter, will you draw near, and give directions for Supper, Guefts will be here prefently.

Del.

Del. Yes, Brother, lead the way, I'll follow you.

[Exeunt all but Delia and Luce.

Hark you, Dutch Frow, a word.

Luce. Vat is your vill wit me?

Del. Sifter Luce, 'tis nor your broken Language,
Nor this fame Habit, can difguife your Face
From I that know you; pray tell me, what means this?
Luce. Sifter, I fee you know me, yet be fecret;
This borrowed Shape that I have ta'en upon me,
Is but to keep my felf a fpace unknown,
Both from my Father, and my nearest Friends;
Until I fee how time will bring to pass,
The defperate Courfe of Mafter Flowerdale.
Del. O he is worse than bad, I prethee leave him,
And let not once thy Heart to think on him.
Luce. Donot perfwade me once to fuch a Thought,
Imagine yet, that he is worfe than nought;
Yet one good time may all that Ill undo,
That all his former Life did run into.
Therefore, kind Sifter, do not difclose my Eftate,
If e'er his Heart doth turn, 'tis ne'er too late.
Del. Well, feeing no Counsel can remove your Mind,
I'll not disclose you, that art wilful blind.

Luce. Delia, I thank you. I now muft please her Eyes, My Sifter Frances, neither fair nor wife.

Enter Flowerdale Solus.

Flow. On goes he that knows no end of his Journey,
I have pafs'd the very utmost bounds of Shifting,
I have no Course now but to hang my felf;
I have liv'd fince Yesterday two a Clock, of a
Spice-cake I had at a Burial: And for Drink,.

I

got it at an Ale-house among Porters, fuch as
Will bear out a Man, if he have no Mony indeed.
I mean out of their Companies, for they are Men
Of good Carriage. Who comes here?

The two Cony-catchers, that won all myMony of me,
I'll try if they'll lend me any.

Enter Dick and Ralph.
What Mr. Richard, how do you?

How doft thou Ralph ? By Gad, Gentlemen, the world
Grows bare with me,
me, will

you do as much as lend

[Exeunt.

Me

Me an Angel between you both, you know you
Won a hundred of me the other Day.

Ralph. How, an Angel? Gad damn us if we loft not every Penny within an Hour after thou wert gone.

Flow. I prethee lend me fo much as will pay for my Suppers I'll pay you again, as I am a Gentleman.

Ralph. I'Faith, we have not a farthing, not a mite
I wonder at it, Mr. Flowerdale,

You will fo carelefly undo your felf;
Why you will lofe more Mony in an Hour,
Than any honeft Man fpends in a Year;
For Shame betake you to fome honeft Trade,
And live not thus fo like a Vagabond.

Flow. A Vagabond indeed, more Villains you:
They gave me Counsel that firft cozen'd me;
Thofe Devils firft brought me to this I am,
And being thus, the firft that do me wrong.
Well, yet I have one Friend left in ftore.
Not far from hence there dwells a Cockatrice,
One that I first put in a Sartin Gown,
And not a Tooth that dwells within her Head,
But ftands me at the leaft in twenty Pound:
Her will I vifit now my Coyn is gone,
And as I take it here dwells the Gentlewoman.
What ho, is Mistress Apricock within ?

Enter Ruffin.

[Exeunt

Raf. What fawcy Rafcal is that which knocks fo bold?
O, is it you, old Spend-thrift? are you here?
One that is turned Cozener about the Town :
My Miftrefs faw you, and fends this Word by me,
Either be packing quickly from the Door,
Or you fhall have fuch a Greeting fent you ftraight,
As you will little like on, you had beft be gone.
Flow. Why fo, this is as it fhould be, being poor,
Thus art thou ferv'd by a vile painted Whore.
Well, fince thy damned crew do so abuse thee,
I'll try of honeft Men, how they will use me.
Enter an ancient Citizen.

Sir, I beseech you to take Compaffion of a Man;

[Exit.

One whofe Fortunes have been better than at this Inftant they feem to be but if I might crave of you fo much little

:

Portion,

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