Edm. O, 'tis a paffing good one, Nuncle; for he fays I fhall prove fuch an excellent Gamefter in my time, that I shall spend all fafter than my Father got it. Sir God. There's a Fortune indeed. Edm. Nay, it hits my humor fo pat.

Sir God. Ay, that will be the end on't; will the Curfe of the Beggar prevail fo much, that the Son fhall confume that foolifhly, which the Father got craftily; ay, ay, ay; twill, 'twill, 'twill.

Pye. Stay, ftay, ftay.

[Pye-boord with an Almanack, and the Captain.

Capt. Turn over, George.

Pye, June, July; here, July, that's the Month, Sunday thirteen, Yesterday fourteen, to Day fifteen.

Capt. Lock quickly for the fifteenth Day,if within the compass of these two Days there would be fome boifterous Storm or other, it would be the beft, I'd defer him off 'till then; fome Tempeft, and it be thy will.

Pye. Here's the fifteenth Day, -hot and fair.
Capt. Puh, would t'ad been, hot and foul.

Pye. The fixteenth Day, that's to morrow; the Morning for the most part, fair and pleasant.

Capt. No luck.

Pye. But about high-noon, Lightning and Thunder. Capt. Lightning and Thunder? admirable! beft of all! I'll conjure to morrow just at high-noon, George.

Pye. Happen but true to morrow, Almanack, and I'll give thee leave to lye all the Year after.

I

a

Capt. Sir, I must crave your Patience, to bestow this Day upon me, that I may furnish my felf ftrongly,fent a Spirit into Lancashire t'other Day, to fetch back Knave-Drover, and I look for his return this Evening-to morrow Morning, my Friend here and I will come and breakfast with you.

Sir God. O, you fhall be moft welcome.

Capt. And about noon, without fail, I purpose to conjure.
Sir God. Mid-noon will be a fit time for you.

Edm. Conjuring? do you mean to conjure at our House to morrow, Sir?

Capt. Marry do I, Sir; 'tis my intent, young Gentleman.

Edm.

Edm. By my troth, I'll love you while I live for't: O rare! Nicholas, we fhall have Conjuring to morrow.

Nich. Puh I, I could ha told

you of that.

Capt. Law, he could ha told him of that, Fool, Coxcomb, could ye?

Edm. Do you hear me, Sir, I defire more acquaintance on you, you shall earn fome Mony of me, now I know can Conjure; but can you fetch any that is loft?

Capt. Oh, any thing that's loft.

you

Edm. Why look you, Sir, I tell't you as a Friend and a Conjurer; I should marry a Pothecary's Daughter, and 'twas told me, the loft her Maiden-head at Stony-Stratford: Now if you'll do but fo much as Conjure for't, and make all whole again

Capt. That I will, Sir.

Edm. By my. troth I thank you, la.

Capt. A little

merry with your Sifter's Son, Sir.

Sir God. Oh, a fimple young Man, very fimple; come Captain, and you, Sir; we'll e'en part with a Gallon of Wine 'till to morrow Break-fast.

Tip. Capt. Troth, agreed, Sir.

Nich. Kinfman-Scholar.

Pye. Why now thou art a good Knave, worth a hundred Brownifts.

Nich. Am I indeed, la; I thank you heartily, la. [Exe.

A CT IV.

Enter Moll, and Sir John Penny-Dub.

Dub. BUT I hope you will not ferve a Knight fo, Gen

tlewoman, will you? to cafheer him, and caft him off at your Pleafure; what do you think I was dubb'd for nothing, no by my Faith, Lady's Daughter.

Moll. Pray Sir John Penny-Dub, let it be defer'd a-while, I have a Heart to marry as you can have; but as the Fortune-teller told me.

Dub. Pax o'th' Fortune-teller, would Derrick had been his Fortune feven Year ago, to erofs my Love thus; did he

know

know what cafe I was in? why this is able to make a Man drown himself in's Father's Fish-Pond.

Moll. And then he told me moreover, Sir John, that the Breach of it kept my Father in Purgatory.

Dub. In Purgatory? why let him purge out his Heart there, what have we to do with that? there's Physicians enow there to caft his Water, is that any Matter to us? how can he hinder our Love? why let him be hang'd now he's dead? Well, have I rid Poft Day and Night, to bring you merry News of my Father's Death, and now.... Moll. Thy Father's Death? is the old Farmer dead ? Dub. As dead as his Barn-Door, Moll.

Moll. And you'll keep your Word with me now, Sir John, that I fhall have my Coach and my Coachman ? Dub. Ay faith.

Moll. And two white Horfes with black Feathers to draw it?

Dub. Too.

Moll. A guarded Lackey to run befor't, and py'd Liveries to come trashing after't.

Dub. Thou fhalt, Moll.

Moll. And to let me have Mony in my Purfe to go whither I will.

Dub. All this.

Moll. Then come, whatfoe'er comes on't, we'll be made fure together before the Maids o'th' Kitchen.

Enter Widow, Frances and Frailty.

[Exit.

Wid. How now? where's my Brother Sir Godfrey? went he forth this Morning?

Frail. O no Madam, he's above at Breakfaft, with Sir Reverence a Conjurer.

Wid. A Conjurer ? what manner of Fellow is he?

Frail. Oh, a wondrous rare Fellow, Mistress, very ftrongly made upward, for he goes in a Buff-Jerkin; he fays he will fetch Sir Godfrey's Chain again, if it hang between Heaven and Earth.

Wid. What! he will not? then he's an exlent Fellow I warrant; how happy were that Woman to be bleft with fuch a Husband, a Man cunning? how do's he look, Frailty? very fwartly I warrant, with black Beard, fcorcht Cheeks, and fmoaky Eye-brows.

VOL. VI.

Hh

Frail

Frail. Foh

he's neither fmoak-dryed, nor fcorcht, nor black, nor nothing, I tell you, Madam, he looks as fair to fee to as one of us; I do think, but if you faw him once, you'd take him to be a Chriftian.

Fran. So fair, and yet fo cunning, that's to be wondred at, Mother.

Enter Sir Oliver Muckhill, and Sir Andrew Tipftaffe.
Muck. Blefs you, fweet Lady.

Tip. And you, fair Mistress.

[Exit Frailty.

Wid. Coades, what do you mean, Gentlemen? Fie, did

I not give you your Anfwers?

Muck. Sweet Lady?

Wid. Well, I will not ftick with you

Daughter, kiss the Gentleman for once.

Fran. Yes Forfooth.

Tip. I'm proud of fuch a Favour.

for a Kifs;

Wid. Truly la, Sir Oliver, you're much too blame to come again when you know my Mind fo well delivered Widow could deliver a thing.

Muck. But I expect a farther Comfort, Lady.

as a

Wid. Why la you now, did I not defire you to put off your Suit quite and clean when you came to me again? how fay you? did I not?

Muck. But the fincere Love which my Heart bears to you

Wid. Go to, I'll cut you off: and Sir Oliver to put you in Comfort, afar off, my Fortune is read me, I must marry again.

Muck. O bleft Fortune !

Wid. But not as long as I can chufe; nay, I'll hold out well.

Enter Frailty.

Frail. O Madam, Madam.

Wid. How now? what's the hafte?

[In her Ear. Tip. Faith, Mistress Frances, I'll maintain you gallantly, I'll bring you to Court, wean you among the fair Society of Ladies poor Kinfwomen of mine in Cloth of Silver, befide you fhall have your Monkey, your Parrot, your Mu kat, and your Pifs, Pifs, Pifs.

Fran. It will do very well.

Wid. What, do's he mean to Conjure here then? how fhall I do to be rid of these Knights, please you, Gentlemen, to walk a while i'th Garden, to gather a Pink, or a Gilly-flower.

Both. With all our Hearts, Lady, and count us favour'd.

[Exeunt. Sir God. within.] Step in, Nicholas, look, is the Coast clear?

Nich. Oh, as clear as a Carter's Eye, Sir.

Sir God. Then enter Captain Conjurer; now -how like you our Room, Sir?

Enter Sir Godfrey, Captain, Pye-boord, Edmond,
and Nicholas.

Cap. O wonderful convenient.

Edm. I can tell you, Captain, fimply though it lies here, 'tis the faireft Room in my Mother's Houfe, as dainty a room to Conjure in, methinks, why you may bid, I cannot tell how many Devils welcome in't my Father has had twenty in't at once!

Pye. What, Devils?

Edm. Devils, no Deputies, and the wealthieft Men he could get.

Sir God. Nay, put by your Chats now, fall to your Bufinefs roundly, the Fefcue of the Dial is upon the Chrifcrofs of Noon; but oh, hear me, Captain, a qualm comes o'er my Stomach.

Cap. Why, what's the Matter, Sir?

Sir God. Oh, how if the Devil fhould prove a Knave and tear the Hangings.

Cap. Fuh, I warrant you, Sir Godfrey.

Edm. Ay, Nunkle, or fpit Fire upo'th' Sealing.

Sir God. Very true too, for 'tis but thin Plaistered, and 'twill quickly take hold a' the Laths; and if he chance to fpit downward too, he will burn all the Boards. Cap. My Life for yours, Sir Godfrey.

Sir God. My Sifter is very curious and dainty o'er this Room, I can tell you, and therefore if he muft needs spit, I pray defire him to fpit i'th' Chimney.

Pye. Why, affure you, Sir Godfrey, he shall not be brought up with fo little Manners, to fpit and spawl a'th' floor.

Hh 2

Sir