[Exit Cit.

Portion, as would bring me to my Friends, I would rest thankful, until I had required fo great a Courtesie.

Cit. Fie, fie, young Man, this Course is very bad,
Too many such have we about this City ;
Yet for I have not seen you in this fort,
Nor noted you to be a common Beggar,
Hold, there's an Angel to bear your Charges
Dowr, go to your Friends, do not on this depend.
Such bad Beginnings oft have worser Ends.

Flow. Worler ends : nay, if it fall out
No worse than in old Angels I care not,
Nay, now I have had such a fortunate Beginning,
I'll not let a sixpenny Purse escape me :
By the Mass here comes another.

Enter a Citizen's Wife with a Torch before her. God bless you, fair Mistress. Now would it please you, Gentlewoman, to look into the Wants of a poor Gentleman, a younger Brother, I doubt not but God will treble restore it back again, one that never before this time demanded Penny, Half.penny, nor Farthing.

Cit. Wife. Stay, Alexander, now by my Troth a very proper Man, and 'tis great Pity ; hold, my Friend, there's all the Mony I have about me, a couple a Shillings, and God bless thee. Flow. Now God thank you, sweet Lady ; if

you

have any Friend, or Garden-house, where you may imploy a poor Gentleman as your Friend, I am yours to command in all secret Service.

Cit. Wife. I thank you good friend, I prithee let me see that again I gave thee, there is one of them a brafs Shilling, give me them, and here is half a Crown in Gold.

[He gives it her. Now out upon thee, Rascal: secret Service ! what doft thou make of me? It were a good Deed to have thee whipt: Now I have my Mony again, I'll see thee hang'd before I give thee a Penny. Secret Service ? cn, good Alexander.

[Exeunt Ambo. Flow. This is villanous luck, I perceive Dishonesty Will not thrive; here comes more, God forgive me, Sir Athur and Mr. Oliver, aforegod I'll speak to them.

God

God save you, Sir Arthur; God save you, Mr. Oliver. Oli. Been you chere, zirrah, come will you

taken

your self to your Tools, Coystrel ?

Flow. Nay, Mr. Oliver, I'll not fight with you,
Alas, Sir, you know it was not my doings,
It was only a Plot to get Sir Lancelot's Daughter :
By Gad i never meant you harm.

Oli. And whore is the Gentlewoman thy Wife, Mezel ? Whore is she, Zirrah, ha?

Flow. By my troth, Mr. Oliver, fick, very-fick ; And Gad is my Judge, I know not what means to make for her, good Gentlewoman.

Oli. Tell me true, is the fick? tell me true itch' vise thee.

Flow. Yes faith, I tell you true: Mr. Oliver, if you would do me the small kindness, but to lend me forty Shillings: So Gad help me, I will pay you so soon as my Ability shall make me able, as I am a Gentleman,

Oli. Well thou zaist thy Wife is zick; hold, there's vorty Shillings, give it to thy Wife, look thou give it her, or I Mall zo veze thee, thou wert not zo vezed this zeven year, look to it.

Arth. I'faith, Mr. Oliver, it is in vain
To give to him that never thinks of her.

Oli. Well, would che could yvind it.
Flow. I tell you true, Sir Arthur, as I am a Gentleman.
Oli. Well, farewel zirrah: come, Sir Arthar.

[Exeunt Ambo.
Flow. By the Lord, this is excellent.
Five golden Angels compaft in an Hour,
If this Trade hold, I'll never seek a new.
Welcome, sweet Gold, and Beggary adieu.

Enter Uncle and Father.
Onc. See, Kefter, if you can find the House.

Flow. Who's here, my Uncle, and my Man Kefter 3
By the Mass 'tis they.
How do you Uncle, how doft thou, Kester >
By my troth, Uncle, you must needs lend
Me some Mony, the poor Gentlewoman
My Wife, so Gad help me, is very sick.
I was rob’d of the hundred Angels
You gave me, they are gone.
VOL. VI.

U

Once

[Exeunt ambo.

Unc. Ay, they are gone indeed, come, Kefter, away.
Flow. Nay, Uncle, do you hear, good Uncle?

Onc. Out Hypocrite, I will not hear thee speak,
Come, leave him, Kefter,

Flow. Kester, honest Kester.

Fath. Sir, I have nought to say to you, Open the Door to my Kin, thou had'it best Lock't fast, for there's a false Knave without.

Flow. You are an old lying Rascal,
So you are.

Enter Luce.
Luce. Vat is de matter, Vat be you, Yonker?

Flow. By this light a Dutch Frow, they say they are called kind, by this Light I'll try her.

Luce. Vát be you, Yonker, why do you not speaks

Flow. By my troth, Sweet Heart, a poor Gentleman that would defire of you, if it stand with your liking, the bounty of your Purse.

Enter
young

Flowerdale's Father,
Luce. O here God, fo young an Armine.

Flow. Armine, Sweet-heart, I know not what you mean by that, but I am almost a Beggar.

Luce. Are you not a married Man, vere been your Vife? Here is all I have, take dis.

Flow. What Gold, young Frow? this is brave.
Fath. If he have any Grace, he'll now repent.
Luce. Why speak you not, vere be your Vife?

Flow. Dead, dead, she's dead, 'tis the hath undone me? Spent me all I had, and kept Rascals under my Nose to

brave me.

Luce. Did you use her vell?

Flow. Use her, there's never a Gentlewoman in England could be better used than I did her; I could but Coach her; her Diet' stood me in forty pound a Month, but the is dead, and in her Grave my Cares are buried.

Luce. Indeed dat vas not scone.
Fath. He is turn'd more Devil than he was before.

Flow. Thou dost belong to Master Civet here, dost thou not? Luce. Yes, me do.

Flow.

Flow. Why there's it, there's not a handful of Plate
But belongs to me, Gad's my Judge:
If I had such a Wench as thou art,
There's never a Man in England would make more
Of her, than I would do, so she had

any

stock.

[They call withir. Owhy Tanikin.

Luce. Stay, one doth call, I shall come by and by a. gain.

Flow. By this Hand, this Dutch Wench is in love with me, Were it not admirable to make her steal All Civet's Plate, and run away.

Fath. 'Twere beastly. O Master Flowerdale, Have

you no fear of God, nor Conscience : What do you mean, by this vile course you take ?

Flow. What do I mean? why, to live, that I mean.

Fath. To live in this forr, fie upon the course,
Your Life doth show, you are a very Coward.

Flow. A Coward, I pray in what
Fath. Why you will borrow Six-pence of a Boy.

Flow. 'S nails, is there such a Cowardice in that? I dare borrow it of a Man, ay, and of the tallest Man in England, if he will lend it me : Let me borrow it how I can, and let them come by it how they dare. And it is well known, I might ride out a hundred times if I would,

fo I might.

Fath. It was not want of Will, but Cowardice,
There is none that lends to you, but know they gain:
And what is that but only stealth in you?
Delia might hang you now, did not her Heart
Take pity of you for her Sister's fake.
Go get you hence, left ling’ring here you stay,
You fall into their Hands you look not for.

Flow. I'll tarry here, 'till the Dutch Frow comes,
If all the Devils in Hell were here.

[Exit Father? Enter Sir Lancelot, Mr. Weathercock, and Artichoak.

Lanc. Where is the Door? are we not past it, Artig choak?

Art. By th’ Mass here's one, I'll ask him : Do you hear, Sir ? What, are you so proud ? do you hear, which is the way

Το

To Mr. Civet's House? what, will you not speak?
O me, this is filching Flowerdale.

Lanc. O wonderful, is this lewd Villain here?
O

you cheating Rogue, you Cut-purse, Cony-catcher,
What Ditch, you Villain, is my Daughter's Grave?
A cozening Rascal, that must make a Will,
Take on him that ftri& Habit, very that:
When he should turn to Angel, a dying Grace,
I'll Father-in-Law you, Sir, I'll make a Will:
Speak, Villain, where's my Daughter?
Poison'd, I warrant you, or knock'd a the Head :
And to abuse good Master Weathercock, with
His forg'd Will, and Master Weathercock,
To make my grounded Resolution;
Than to abuse the Devonshire Gentieman:
Go, away with him to Prison.

Flow. Wherefore to Prison? Sir, I will not go.
Enter Master Civet, his Wife, Oliver, Sir Arthur, young

Flowerdale's Father, Uncle, and Delia.
Lanc. O here's his Uncle:
Welcome, Gentlemen, welcome all:
Such a Cozener, Gentlemen, a Murderer too
For any thing I know, my Daughter is missing,
Hath been look'd for, cannot be found, a vild upon thee.

Unc. He is my Kinsman, although his Life be vile, Therefore, in God's dame, do with him what you will.

. Lanc. Marry to Prison.

Flow. Wherefore to Prison, snick-up? I owe you nothing.

Lanc. Bring forth my Daughter then, away with him.

Flow. Go seek your Daughter, what do you lay to my Charge?

Lanc. Suspicion of Murder, go, away with him.

Flow. Murder your Dogs, I murder your Daughter? Come, Uncle, I know you'll Bail me.

Unc. Not I, were there no more,
Than I the Jaylor, thou the Prisoner.
Lanc. Go, away with him.

Enter Luce like a Frow.
Luce. O my Life, where will you ha de Man ?
Var ha de Yonker done?

Weath