Mam. Madam Suppository?

Kas. Doxey, my suster?

Ana. Locusts of the foul pit.

Tri. Prophane as Bell and the Dragon.

Ana. Worse than the grashoppers, or the lice of Egypt. Love. Good gentlemen, hear me. Are you officers, And cannot stay this violence?

Offi. Keep the peace.

Love. Gentlemen, what is the matter? Whom do you seek?

Mam. The chymical cożener.

Sur. And the captain pander.
Kas. The nun my suster.
Mam. Madam Rabbi.

Ana. Scorpions and caterpillars.

Love. Fewer at once, I pray you.

Offi. One after another, gentlemen, I charge you.

By virtue of my staff.

Ana. They are the vessels

Of pride, lust, and the cart.

Love. Good zeal, lie still

A little while.

Tri. Peace, deacon Ananias.

520

Love. The house is mine here, and the doors are open:

If there be any such persons you seek for,

Use your authority;

I am but newly come to town, and finding

This tumult 'bout my door (tò tell you true)

It somewhat 'maz'd me; till my man here, fearing My more displeasure, told me he had done

Somewhat an insolent part, let out my house
To a doctor, and a captain; who, what they are,
Or where they be, he knows not.

Mam. Are they gone?

540

[They enter.

Love. You may go in and search, sir. Here, I find The empty walls worse than I left them, smok'd, A few crack'd pots and glasses, and a furnace; The cieling fill'd with poesies of the candle: Only one gentlewoman, I met here,

That is within, that said she was a widow

Kas. Ay, that's my suster, I'll go thump her.

Where is she?

[Exit. Love. And should ha' married a Spanish count, but he, When he came to't, neglected her so grossly, That I, a widower, am gone through with her. Sur. How have I lost her then?

Love. Were you the don, sir?

Good faith, now, she does blame yo'extremely, and says
You swore, and told her, you had ta'en the pains
"To dye your beard, and umbre o'er your face,"
Borrowed a suit and ruff all for her love,
And then did nothing. What an oversight,
And want of putting forward, sir, was this!
Well fare an old harquebuzier, yet,

Could prime his powder, and give fire, and hit,
All in a twinkling.

560

Enter MAMMON.

Mam. The whole nest are fled!

Love. What sort of birds were they?

Mam. A kind of choughs,

Or thievish daws, sir, that have pick'd my purse

Of eight-score and ten pounds, within these five weeks, Beside my first materials, and my goods,

That lie i' the cellar, which I am glad they ha' left. I may have them home yet.

Love. Think you so, sir?

Mam. Ay.

Love. By order of law, sir, but not otherwise.

Mam. Not mine own stuff?

Love. Sir, I can take no knowledge,

That they are yours, but by public means.

If you can bring certificate, that you were gull'd of them, Or any formal writ out of a court,

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

Love. That you shall not, sir,

580

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.

I will go mount a turnip-cart, and preach
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.

[Exeunt.

Enter ANANIAS and TRIBULATION.

Trib. 'Tis well, the saints shall not lose all yet. Go, 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?

боо

Ana. The goods, sometimes the orphans, that the brethren

Bought with their silver pence.

Love. What, those i' the cellar,
The knight sir Mammon claims !
Ana. I do defy

The wicked Mammon, so do all the brethren.
Thou prophane man, I ask thee with what conscience
Thou canst advance that idol against us,

That have the seal? Were not the shillings number'd,
That made the pounds? Were not the pounds told out,
Upon the second day of the fourth week,
In the eighth month upon the table dormant,
The year of the last patience of the saints,
Six hundred and ten ?

Love. Mine earnest vehement botcher,
And deacon also, I cannot dispute with you;
But if you get you not away the sooner,

I shall confute you with a cudgel.

Ana. Sir?

Trib. Be patient, Ananias.

Ana. I am strong,

620

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 the house: may dogs defile the walls,
And wasps and hornets breed beneath thy roof,
This seat of falshood, and this cave of coz'nage.

[Exeunt Trib. and Ana. Face. If you get off the angry child, now, sir

Enter KASTRIL.

Kas. Come on, you ewe, you have match'd most

sweetly, ha' you not?

[To his Sister.

Did I not say, I would never ha' you tup'd

But by a dubb'd boy, to make you a Lady-Tom?

'Slight you are a mammet! Oh, I could touse you, now, Death, mun you marry with a pox?

Love. You lie, boy;

As sound as you; and I'm before-hand with you.

Kas. Anon?

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

Why do you not buckle to your tools !

Kas. God's light!

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

640

Love. What, do you change your copy now? Proceed.

Here stands my dove; stoop at her if you dare.
Kas. 'Slight, I must love him!" I cannot chuse

i' faith !"

And I should be hang'd for't. Suster, I protest,
I honour thee for this match.