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SWoon,

I was in no kind denied to be a witness of the John. That thou shalt presently. Come away. thing.

2 Con. And will you always ? Fred. So now the thing is out. This is a John. Always ! I can't say so: but I will as damn’d bawd, and I as damn'd a rogue for what often as I can. I did to Don John; for o' my conscience, this is 2 Con. Phoo! I mean love me. that Constantia the fellow told me of. I'll make John. Well I mean that too. him amends, whate'er it cost me. Lady, you must 2 Con. Swear then. give me leave not to part with you, till you meet John. That I will upon my knees. What shall with your daughter, for some reasons I shall tell I say? you hereafter.

2 Con. Nay, use what words you please, so Moth. Sir, I am so highly your obligee for the they be hearty, and not those that are spoken by manner of your enquiries, and you have grounded the priest, for that charm seldom proves fora your determinations upon so just a basis, that I tunate. shall not be ashamed to own myself a votary to John. I swear then by thy fair self, that look’st all your commands.

(Freunt. so like a deity, and art the only thing I now can

think of, that I'll adore thee to my dying day. Enter 2d Constantia.

2 Con. And here I'll vow, the minute thou 2 Con. So, I'm once more freed from Anto dost leave me, I'll leave the world ; that is, kill nio ; but whither to go now, that's the question :

myself. nothing troubles me, but that he was sent up by

John. O my dear heavenly creature !--[Kisses that young fellow, for I liked him with my soul; her.] That kiss now has almost put me into a would he had liked me so too.

For Heaven's sake, let's quickly out of

the streets for fear of another scuffle. I durst Enter Don John, and a Shop-keeper. encounter a whole army for thy sake, but yet

methinks I had better try my courage another John. Which way went she?

way; what think'st thou? Shop. Who?

2 Con. Well, well; why don't you then? John. The woman.

[ds they are going out, en ter ist CONSTAN, Shop. What woman?

TIA, and just then ANTONIO seizes upon John. Why, a young woman, a handsome wo

her. man, the handsomest woman thou ever saw'st in

John. Who's this my old new friend has got thy life ; speak quickly, sirrah, or thou shalt speak there? Shop. Why, yonder's a woman: what a devil !ast ! Come, give me my gold.

Ant. O! have I caught you, gentlewoman, at ails this fellow

[Erit.

Con. I hope he takes me for another, I won't John. O, my dear soul, take pity on me, and give me comfort; for I'm e'en dead for want of answer ; for I had rather he should take me for

any one than who I am. thee. 2 Com. O, you're a fine gentleman, indeed, to by the hand?

John. Pray, sir, who is that you have there shut me up in your house, and send another man

Ant. A person of honour, sir, that has broke to me.

open my trunks, and run away with all my gold; John. Pray, hear me. 2. Com. No, I will never hear you more, after yet, I'll hold ten pounds Pll have it whipped out

of her again. such an injury: what would ye have done, if I

2 Con. Done, I'll hold you ten pounds of that, had been kind to you, that could use me thus before?

Ant. Ha ! by my troth you have reason; and, John. By my troth, that's shrewdly urged.

lady, I ask your pardon. But I'll have it whip2 Con. Besides, you basely broke your word.

ped out of jou, then, gossip. John. But will you hear nothing ? nor did you hear nothing? I had three men upon me at once, goods.

John. Hold, sir, you must not meddle with my and bad I not consented to let that old fellow up, Ant. Your goods ! how came she to be yours? who came to my rescue, they had all broken in, I'm sure I bought her of her mother for five hun, whether I would or no.

dred good pieces of gold, and she was a-bed 2 Con. Faith, it may be it was so, for I remem- with me all night too. ”Deny that if you dare. ber I heard a noise; but suppose it was not so, 2 Gon. Well, and what did you do when I was what then? Why then I'll love him however.Hark ye, sir, I ought now to use you very scur

a-bed with you all night? Confess that if you

dare. vily. "But I can't

find in my heart to do it. Ant. Umph! say you so John. Then God's blessing on thy heart for it!

Con. I'll try if this lady will help me, for I 2 Con. But a

know not whether else to go. John, What?

Ant. I shall be ashamed, I see, utterly, except 2 Con. I would fain

I make her hold her peace. Pray, sir, by your John. Ay, so would I: come let's go. 2 Con. I would fain know, whether you can

leave, I hope you will allow me the speech of

one word with your goods here, as you call her ; be kind to me?

'tis but a small request.

no more.

now.

?

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. Şir, 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.

Com. 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 stole out of my trunk) that ercise of my generosity but by putting myself ini'l 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 wencliJohn. 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 disa talk of love, or standing by any lady but me, order since we saw you. What's here, our landsir?

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 de have it all presently, as soon as we can but get

serves it. rid of this company.

Lund. Yes, I'm sure of your good word at 2 Con. Phoo! you are always abusing me. Enter FREDERICK and Alothcr.

Con. Hark ye, dear landlady.

Land. O, sweet goodness! is it you? I have Fred. Come, now, madam, let us not speak one been in such a peck of troubles since I saw you; word more, but go quietly about our business ; they took me, and they tumbled 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. Coine bither, my lord, come him wits 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. O, brother, and if he discovers me, I'm certainly Don John, I ask thy pardon, but I hope I shalí 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 bere 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 mise, ed o'er the pate too, bast 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 one.
Is much like paying money for the stocks.

case.

A

NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

BY

MASSINGER.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ,

MEN.

WELLDO, a Parson. LOVELL, un English Lord.

TAPWELL, an Alehouse-keeper.

Three Creditors.
Sir GILES OVERREACH, a cruel Extortioner.
WELBORN, a Prodigal.

WOMEN.
ALLWORTH, a young Gentleman, Page to Lord
LOVELL.

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

MARGARET, Overreuch's Daughter.
MARRALL, a Term-driver, a Creature of Sir FROTH, Tapwell's Wife.
GILES OVERREACH.

Chambermaid.
ORDER,

Waiting-ll'oman.
AMBLE,
FORNACE,

Servants to the Lady ALLWORTH.
WATCHALL,

SCENE,-A County in England,

ACT I.

Tap. Troth, durst I trust you with a lookingSCENE 1.–The Outside of a Village Alehouse.

glass,

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 :

structed, 'Tis verity, I assure you.

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

worship, The devil turned precisian! Rogue, wbat am I ? | A potent monarch called a constable,

allow you

[Beats kim.

my

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 rase, 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 parisk As mighty ale, or beer, they are things, I take it, Thought 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 ?

I
may

thirteen pence a quarter ; Is not thy house, and all thou hast, my gift? And you shall thank my worship. Tap. I find it not in chalk ; and Timothy Tap

well. Thus, you dog-boltwell

And thusDoes kcep 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 boots, What you are, is apparent. 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 1, 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, wretcli ! And stood fair to be custos rotulorum;

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

Ou forfeiturc 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 :
Which your uncle, sir Giles Overreach, observing,

Enter ALLWORTH. (Resolving not to lose a drop of them)

Alla. 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

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

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

Froth. This comes of your prating, husband; Tap. 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

Top. 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 knces. In your gallantry.

Well, Sent to your mother? Well. I shall switch your brains ont.

Allu. My lady, Frank, my patroness ! my 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 her.

left you.

this sceptre :

all !

Tap. While

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