Enter Rose, followed by her Brother BULLOCK, with Chickens on her Arm, in a Basket.

Rose. Buy chickens, young and tender chickens, young and tender chickens.

Plume. Here, you chickens.

Rose. Who calls?

Plume. Come hither, pretty maid.
Rose. Will you please to buy, sir?
Wor. Yes, child, we'll both buy.

Plume. Nay, Worthy, that's not fair; market for yourself Come, child, I'll buy all you have.

Rose. Then all I have is at your service. [Courtesies. Wor. Then must I shift for myself, I find. [Exit. Plume. Let me see; young and tender, you say. [Chucks her under the Chin. Rose. As ever you tasted in your life, sir. Plume. Come, I must examine your basket to the bottom, my dear!

Rose. Nay, for that matter, put in your hand; feel, sir; I warrant my ware is as good as any in the market.

Plume. And I'll buy it all, child, were it ten times

more.

Rose. Sir, I can furnish you.

Plume. Come, then, we won't quarrel about the price; they're fine birds.-Pray, what's your name, pretty creature!

Rose. Rose, sir. My father is a farmer within three short miles o' the town: we keep this market; I sell chickens, eggs, and butter, and my brother Bullock there sells corn.

Bul. Come, sister, haste-we shall be late home. [Whistles about the Stage. Plume. Kite! [Tips him the wink, he returns it.] Pretty Mrs. Rose-you have let me see how

many?

E

Rose. A dozen, sir, and they are richly worth a

crown.

Bul. Come, Rouse; I sold fifty strake of barley today in half this time; but you will higgle and higgle for a penny more than the commodity is worth.

Rose. What's that to you, oaf? I can make as much out of a groat as you can out of fourpence, I'm sureThe gentleman bids fair, and when I meet with a chapman, I know how to make the best of him—And so, sir, I say for a crown-piece the bargain's yours. Plume. Here's a guinea, my dear! Rose. I can't change your money, sir.

Plume. Indeed, indeed, but you can-my lodging is hard by, chicken! and we'll make change there. [Goes off, she follows him

Kite. So, sir, as I was telling you, I have seen one of these hussars eat up a ravelin for his breakfast, and afterwards pick his teeth with a palisado.

Bul. Ay, you soldiers see very strange things; but pray, sir, what is a rabelin?

Kite. Why, 'tis like a modern minc'd pie, but the crust is confounded hard, and the plums are somewhat hard of digestion.

Bul. Then your palisado, pray what may he be? Come, Rouse, pray ha' done.

Kite. Your palisado is a pretty sort of bodkin, about the thickness of my leg.

Bul. That's a fib, I believe. [Aside.] Eh! where's Rouse? Rouse, Rouse! 'Sflesh! where's Rouse gone? Kite. She's gone with the captain.

Bul. The captain! wauns! there's no pressing of women, sure.

Kite. But there is, sure.

Bul. If the captain should press Rouse, I should be ruined- -Which way went she? Oh! the devil take your rabelins and palisadoes!

[Exits