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If you can bring certificate that you were gull'd of 'em,

Or any formal writ out of a court,

That you did cozen yourself, I will not hold them.
Mam. I'll rather lose 'em.
Love. That you shall not, sir,

By me, in troth. Upon these terms they are

yours.

What should they ha' been, sir? turn'd into gold all?

Mam. No: I cannot tell.

It may be they should. What then?

Love. What a great loss in hope have you sustain❜d!

Mam. Not I, the commonwealth has.
Face. Ay, he would ha' built

The city new, and made a ditch about it
Of silver, should have ran with cream from
Hogsdon:

That, every Sunday in Moorfields, the younkers,
And tits, and tomboys, should have fed on gratis.
Mam. I will go mount a turnip-cart, and preach
To the end o' the world, within these two months.
Surly, what! in a dream?

Sur. Must I needs cheat myself, With that same foolish vice of honesty! Come, let us go, and hearken out the rogues. That Face I'll mark for mine, if e'er I meet him. Face. If I can hear of him, sir, I'll bring you word

Unto your lodging:-for, in troth, they were strangers

To me:-I thought them honest as myself, sir. Trib. 'Tis well, the saints shall not lose all yet. Go, [They come forth.

And get some carts

Love. For what, my zealous friends?

Ana. To bear away the portion of the righteous

Out of this den of thieves.

Love. What is that portion?

Ana. I am strong,

And will stand up, well girt, against an host
That threaten Gad in exile.

Love. I shall send you
To Amsterdam, to your cellar.
Ana. I will pray there

Against thy house: may dogs defile thy walls,
And wasps and hornets breed beneath thy roof,
This seat of falsehood, and this cave of coz'nage!
Love. Away, you Harry Nicolas, do you talk?
[Beats DRUGGER away.

Face. No, this was Abel Drugger.-Good sir, go [To the Parson. And satisfy him; tell him, all is done: He staid too long a-washing of his face. The doctor he shall hear of him at Westchester; And of the captain, tell him, at Yarmouth; or Some good port-town else, lying for a wind.If you get off the angry child, now, sir

Kast. Come on, you ewe, you have match'd most sweetly, ha' you not?

Did not I say, I would never ha' you tupp'd [To his Sister. But by a dubb'd boy, to make you a Lady-Tom? 'Slight, you are a mammet! O, I could touse you now.

Death, mun' you marry with a pox!

Love. You lie, boy;

As sound as you; and I'm aforehand with you. Kast. Anon!

Love. Come, will you quarrel! I will seize you, sirrah.

Why do you not buckle to your tools?
Kast. God's light!

This is a fine old boy as e'er I saw !

Love. What, do you change your copy now?

Proceed,

Here stands my dove! stoop at her if you dare. Kast. 'Slight, I must love him! I cannot chuse, i'faith,

Ana. The goods, sometime the orphans, that And I should be hang'd for't.-Sister, I protest

the brethren

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I honour thee for this match.

Love. O, do you so, sir?

Kast. Yes; and thou canst take tobacco, and

drink, old boy,

I'll give her five hundred pound more to her marriage

Than her own state.

Love. Fill a pipeful, Jeremy.

Face. Yes, but go in, and take it, sir.
Love. We will.

I will be rul'd by thee in any thing, Jeremy. Kast. 'Slight, thou art not hide-bound! Thou art a jovy boy!—

Come let's in, I pray thee, and take our whiffs. Love. Whiff in with your sister, brother boy.—

That master

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And kind spectators, if I have outstripp'd
An old man's gravity, or strict canon, think
What a young wife and a good brain may do:
Stretch age's truth sometimes, and crack it too.
Speak for thyself, knave!

Face. So I will, sir.-Gentlemen,
My part a little fell in this last scene,

Yet 'twas decorum.-And though I am clean
Got off from Subtle, Surly, Mammon, Dol,
Hot Ananias, Dapper, Drugger,-all
With whom I traded-yet I put myself
On you, that are my country!-and this pelf
Which I have got, if you do quit me, rests
To feast you often, and invite new guests.

[Exeunt.

RULE A WIFE AND HAVE A WIFE.

BY

FLETCHER.

PROLOGUE.

:

Pleasure attend ye, and about ye sit
The springs of mirth, fancy, delight and wit!
To stir you up, do not your looks let fall,
Nor to remembrance our late errors call,
Because this day we're Spaniards all again,
The story of our play: and our scene Spain
The errors too, do not for this cause hate,
Now we present their wit and not their state.
Nor, ladies! be not angry if you see
A young fresh beauty, wanton and too free,
Seek to abuse her husband;—still 'tis Spain,
No such gross errors in your kingdom reign!
We are vestals all, and though we blow the fire,
We seldom make it flame up to desire :-

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SCENE I.

ACT I.

Enter JUAN DE CASTRO and MICHAEL PEREZ.
Mich. ARE your companies full, colonel?
Juan. No, not yet, sir:

Nor will be this month yet, as I reckon ;
How rises your command?

Mich. We pick up still, and as our monies hold out,

We have men come: about that time I think We shall be full too; many young gallants go. Juan. And unexperienced.

The wars are dainty dreams to young hot spirits, Time and experience will allay those visions; We have strange things to fill our numbers. There's one Don Leon, a strange goodly fellow, Recommended to me from some noble friends, For my Alferes; had you but seen his person,. And what a giant's promise it protesteth.

Mich. I have heard of him, and that he hath serv'd before too.

Juan. But no harm done, nor never meant,
Don Michael,

That came to my ears yet; ask him a question,
He blushes like a girl, and answers little,
To the point less; he wears a sword, a good one,
And good clothes too, he is whole skinn'd, has
no hurt yet,

Good promising hopes; I never yet heard certainly

Of any gentleman that saw him angry.

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Mich. Preserve him, he'll conclude a peace, if Enter Servant, Donna CLARA, and ESTIFANIA,

need be ;

Many as strong as he will go along with us,
That swear as valiantly as heart can wish,
Their mouths charg'd with six oaths at once, and
whole ones,

That make the drunken Dutch creep into molehills.

Juan. 'Tis true, such we must look for: but Michael Perez,

When heard you of Donna Margarita, the great heiress?

Mich. I hear every hour of her, though I never saw her,

She is the main discourse: noble Don Juan de Castro,

How happy were that man could catch this

wench up, And live at ease! she is fair, and young, and wealthy.

Infinite wealthy, and as gracious too
In all her entertainments, as men report.
Juan. But she is proud, sir, that I know for
certain.

And that comes seldom without wantonness.
He that shall marry her, must have a rare hand.
Mich, Would I were married, I would find
that wisdom,

veiled.

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like me;

But in a strange place, to a stranger too,
As if I came on purpose to betray you:
Indeed I will not.

Mich. I shall love you dearly,

And 'tis a sin to fling away affection;
I have no mistress, no desire to honour
Any but you: (will not this oyster open?)

I know not, you have struck me with your modesty

(She will draw sure ;) so deep, and taken from me All the desire I might bestow on others: Quickly, before they come.

Estif. Indeed I dare not :

But since I see you are so desirous, sir,

To view a poor face that can merit nothing

But your repentance

Mich. It must needs be excellent.

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Estif. And with what honesty you ask it of me, Dost thou see how thou pull'st thy legs after

When I am gone, let your man follow me,

And view what house I enter; thither come,
For there I dare be bold to appear open:
And as I like your virtuous carriage then,

Enter JUAN, CLARA, a Servant.

I shall be able to give welcome to you. She has done her business, I must take my leave, sir,

Mich. I'll kiss your fair white hand, and thank you, lady.

My man shall wait, and I shall be your servant. Sirrah, come near; hark.

Serv. I shall do it faithfully.

[Erit.

Juan. You will command me no more services? Clara. To be careful of your noble health, dear sir,

That I may ever honour you,
Juan. I thank you,

And kiss your hands. Wait on the ladies down there. [Exeunt Ladies and Servants. Mich. You had the honour to see the face that came to you?

Juan. And 'twas a fair one: what was yours, Don Michael?

thee, as they

Hung by points?

Alon. Better to pull 'em thus than walk on wooden ones:

Serve bravely for a billet to support me.

Sanch. Fy, fy, 'tis base.

Alon, Dost thou count it base to suffer?
Suffer abundantly? 'tis the crown of honour ;
You think it nothing to lie twenty days
Under a surgeon's hands that has no mercy.
Sanch. As thou hast done, I am sure: but I
perceive now

Why you desire to stay; the orient heiress,
The Margarita, sir.

Alon. I would I had her.

Sanch. They say she will marry.
Alon. I think she will.

Sanch. And marry suddenly, as report goes too.
She fears her youth will not hold out, Alonzo.
Alon. I would I had the sheathing on't.
Sanch. They say too,

She has a greedy eye, that must be fed
With more than one man's meat.

Alon. Would she were mine,

I would cater for her well enough; but, Sanchio,

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