My fornaces, and hanging o' my coppers,
The tunning, and the subtilty o' my yest;
And, then the earth of my bottles, which I
dig,
[myself,
Turn up, and steep, and work, and neal,
To a degree of porc'lane. You will wonder
At my proportions, what I will put up
In seven years! for so long time I ask
For my invention. I will save in cork,
In my mere stop'ling, 'bove three thou-
sand pound

Within that term: by googing of 'em out
Just to the size of my bottles, and not sli-
[thou there?
There's infinite loss i' that. What hast
O' making wine of raisins: this is in hand

cing.

Meer. Yes, and as true a wine as th' wines
Or Spain, or Italy: look of what grape
My raisin is, that wine I'll render perfect,
As of the Muscatel grape, I'll render Mus-
catel;

Of the Canary, his; the Claret, his;
So of all kinds: and bate you of the prices
Of wine throughout the kingdom half in half.
Eng. But how, sir, if you raise the other
commodity, Raisins?

Meer. Why, then I'll make it out of blackberries,

And it shall do the same. 'Tis but more art, And the charge less. Take out another. Fit. No, good sir,

Save you the trouble, I'll not look, nor hear Of any but your first, there; the drown'dland:

Ift will do, as you say.

Meer. Sir, there's not place

To gi' you demonstration of these things, They are a little too subtile. But I could

shew you

Such a necessity in't, as you must be But what you please: against the receiv'd heresie, [land, sir, That England bears no dukes. Keep you the The greatness of th' estate shall throw't upon you.

If you like better turning it to money, What may not you, sir, purchase with that wealth? [lions, Say you should part with two o' your milTo be the thing you would, who would not do't?

Meer. These, sir, are businesses, ask to he carried

With caution, and in cloud.
Fit. I apprehend

[mistress?
They do so, sir. Devil, which way is your
Pug. Above, sir, in her chamber.
Fit. O that's well.

Then this way, good sir.

Meer. I shall follow you; Trains, Gi' me the bag, and go you presently, Commend my service to my lady Tailbush. Tell her I am come from court this morning; say, [entreat her, I have got our business mov'd, and well: That she give you the fourscore angels, and

sec 'em

[side.

Dispos'd of to my counsel, sir Poule Either Sonie time, to-day, I'll wait upon her ladyship,

With the relation.

Eng. Sir, of what dispatch

He is! do you mark?

Meer. Engine, when did you see

[ter

My cousin Ever-ill? keeps he still your quar

I' the Bermudas?

Eng. Yes, sir, he was writing This morning, very hard.

Meer. Be not you known to him, That I am come to town; I have effected A business for him, but I would have it take'

him,

Before he thinks for't.

Eng. Is it past?

Meer. Not yet.

'Tis well o' the way.

Eng. O sir! your worship takes Infinite pains.

Meer. I love, friends, to be active:
A sluggish nature puts off man, and kind.
Eng. And such a blessing follows it.
Meer. I thank

My fate. Pray you, let's be private, sir.
Fit. In, here.

Meer. Where none may interrupt us.
Fit. You hear, Devil,

Lock the street-doors fast, and let no one in (Except they be this gentleman's followers) To trouble me. Do you mark? You've

heard and seen

Something to-day, and by it you may gather, Your mistress is a fruit that's worth the stealing, [sure, now, And therefore worth the watching. Be you

-Keeps he still your quarter

You've all your eyes about you; and let in No lace-woman, nor bawd, that brings French masks, [with wafers,

And cut-works. See you? nor old croans, To convey letters. Nor no youths, disguis'd Like country-wives, with cream and marrow-puddings.

Much knavery may be vented in a pudding, Much bawdy intelligence: they are shrewd cyphers.

Nor turn the key to any neighbour's need;
Be't but to kindle fire, or beg a little,
Put it out rather, all out, to an ash,
That they may see no smoke. Or water,

spill it;

Knock o' the empty tubs, that by the sound They may be forbid entry. Say, we are robb'd,

If any come to borrow a spoon or so.
I wi' not have good fortune, or god's blessing
Let in, while I am busy.

Pug. I'll take care, sir,

They sha' not trouble you if they would.
Fit. Well, do so.

I will deserve so well of my fair mistress
By my discoveries first, my counsels after,
And keeping counsel after that, as who
So ever is one, I'll be another sure,

I'll ha' my share. Most delicate damn'd
flesh
[now,
She will be! O! that I could stay time,
Midnight will come too fast upon me, I fear,
To cut my pleasure-

Mrs. Fit. Look at the back-door, [She sends Devil out. One knocks, see who it is. Pug. Dainty she-devil!

Mrs. Fit. I cannot get this venture of the cloke

Out of my fancy, nor the gentleman's way He took, which though 'twere strange, yet

'twas handsome,

And had a grace withal, beyond the newness.

The excellence of mistresses, I am, Although my master's man, my mistress slave,

The servant of her secrets, and sweet turns, And know what fitly will conduce to either. Mrs. Fit. What's this? I pray you come to yourself, and think

What your part is; to make an answer. Tell, Who is at the door?

Pug. The gentleman, mistress, [you Who was at the cloke-charge to speak with This morning; who expects only to take Some small commandments from you, what you please, Worthy your form, he says, and gentlest Mrs. Fit. O you'll anon prove his hir'd man, I fear;

manners.

What has he giv'n you for this message? sir, Bid him put off his hopes of straw, and leave To spread his nets in view thus. Though they take

Master Fitz-dottrel, I am no such foul Nor fair one, tell him, will be had with stalking;

And wish him to forbear his acting to me, At the gentleman's chamber-window in Lincoln's-inn there,

That opens to my gallery; else I swear T'acquaint my husband with his folly, and

leave him

[him,

To the just rage of his offended jealousy.
Or if your master's sense be not so quick
To right me, tell him I shall find a friend
That will repair me. Say, I will be quiet
In mine own house. Pray you, in those
words give it him. [He goes out.
Pug. This is some fool turn'd!
Mrs. Fit. If he be the master,
Now, of that state and wit which I allow
Sure, he will understand me: I durst not
Be more direct; for this officious fellow,
My husband's new groom, is a spy upon me,
I find already. Yet, if he but tell him
This in my words, he cannot but conceive
Himself both apprehended and requited.
I would not have him think he met a statue,
Or spoke to one, not there, though I were
silent.

How now? ha' you told him?
Pug. Yes.

Mrs. Fit. And what says he?

Pug. Says he that which myself would say to you, if I durst:

That you are proud, sweet mistress; and withal,

A little ignorant, to entertain The good that's proffer'd; and (by your beauty's leave)

Not all so wise as some true politic wife Would be; who having match'd with such a Nupson [face

(I speak it with my master's peace) whose Hath left t' accuse him, now, for't doth confess him, [scruple, What you can make him; will yet (out of And a spic'd conscience) defraud the poor gentleman,

At least delay him in the thing he longs for, And makes it his whole study, how to com

pass

Only a title. Could but he write cuckold, He had his ends. For, look you

Mrs. Fit. This can be None but my husband's wit.

Pug. My precious mistress.

Mrs. Fit. It creaks his Engine: the groom never durst

Be else so sawcy

Pug. If it were not clearly

His worshipful ambition, and the top of it, The very forked top too, why should he Keep you thus mur'd up in a back-room, mistress,

Allow you ne'er a casement to the street, Fear of engendering by the eyes, with gallants;

Forbid you paper, pen and ink, like ratsbane; [letter Search your half-pint of Muscatel, lest a Be sunk i' the pot; and hold your new-laid

egg

Against the fire, lest any charm be writ there? Will you make benefit of truth, dear mis

tress,

If I do tell it you? I do't not often:
I am set over you, employ'd indeed
To watch your steps, your looks, your very
breathings,

And to report them to him. Now, if you
Will be a true, right, delicate, sweet mistress,
Why, we will make a cokes of this wise

master,

We will, my mistress, an absolute fine cokes,
And mock, to air, all the deep diligences
Of such a solemn and effectual ass,
An ass to so good purpose as we'll use him.
I will contrive it so, that you shall go
To plays, to masks, to meetings, and to feasts:
For, why is all this rigging and fine tackle,
mistress,

If you neat handsome vessels, of good sail,
Put not forth ever and anon with your nets
Abroad into the world? It is your fishing.
There, you shall chuse your friends, your
servants, lady,
[letters,
Your squires of honour; I'll convey your

You are a stranger to the plot! you see not
Your sawcy Devil here, to tempt your wife,
With all the insolent uncivil language,
Or action, he could vent?

Fit. Did you so, devil?

Mrs. Fit. Not you? you were not planted i' your hole to hear him, Upo' the stairs, or here behind the hangings? I do not know your qualities? he durst do it, And you not give directions?

Fit. You shall see, wife,

Whether he durst or no, and what it was,
I did direct.

[Her husband goes out, and enters pre-
sently with a cudgel upon him.
Pug. Sweet mistress, are you mad?
Fit. You most mere rogue! you open
manifest villain!

You fiend apparent you! you declar'd hellhound!

Fit. Nay, there is one blow more for exercise:

[After a pause he strikes him again. I told you I should do it.

Pug. Would you had done, sir!

Fit. O wife, the rarest man! (yet there's

another

[man, wife! To put you in mind o' the last) such a brave Within, he has his projects, and does vent [And again.

'em

The gallantest! were you tentiginous! ha?
Would you be acting of the incubus?
Did her silk's rustling move you?
Pug. Gentle sir.

Fit. Out of my sight. If thy name were not Devil,

[In, Thou should'st not stay a minute with me. Go, yet stay, yet go too. I am resolv'd What I will do, and you shall know't aforehand.

Soon as the gentleman is gone, do you hear? I'll help your lisping. Wife, such a man, wife! [Devil goes out. He has such plots! he will make me a duke! No less by heaven! six mares to your coach, wife! [man bald, That's your proportion! and your coachBecause he shall be bare enough. Do not [map, you laugh,

We are looking for a place, and all, i' the What to be of. Have faith, be not an infidel.

You know I am not easy to be gull'd.
I swear, when I have my millions, else I'll

make

Another dutchess, if you ha' not faith.
Mrs. Fit. You'll ha' too much, I fear, in

these false spirits. [mere wit! Fit. Spirits? O, no such thing, wife; wit, This man defies the devil and all his works! He does't by Engine, and devices, he! He has his winged ploughs, that go with sails,

[mills Will plough you forty acres at once! and Will spout you water ten miles off All Crowland [folk,

Is ours, wife; and the fens, from us, in NorTo the utmost bounds of Lincolnshire! we have view'd it,

And measur'd it within all, by the scale!
The richest tract of land, love, i' the king-
dom!
[millions,
There will be made seventeen or eighteen
Or more, as't may be handled! wherefore
think,

Sweet-heart, if th' hast a fancy to one place
More than another, to be dutchess of,
Now name it; I will ha't whate'er it cost,
(If't will be had for money) either here,
Or in France, or Italy.

Mrs. Fit. You ha' strange phantasies!

SCENE IV.

Meer-cruft, Fitz-dottrel, Engine. Meer. Where are you, sir?

Fit. Ha! that last has a good sound! I like it well. The Duke of Drown'd-land? Eng. Yes;

It goes like Groen-land, sir, if you mark it. Meer. I,

And drawing thus your honour from the work,

You make the reputation of that greater,
And stay't the longer i' your name.
Fit. "Tis true.

Drown'd-lands will live in drown'd-land!
Meer. Yes, when you

Ha' no foot left; as that must be, sir, one day.
And though it tarry in your heirs some forty,
Fifty descents, the longer liver at last, yet,
Must thrust 'em out on't, if no quirk in law,
Or odd vice o' their own not do it first.
We see those changes daily; the fair lands
That were the clients', are the lawyers' now;
And those rich manors there of goodman
Taylor's,
[yard
Had once more wood upon 'em than the
By which th' were measur'd out for the last

purchase.

Nature hath these vicissitudes. She makes No man a state of perpetuity, sir.

Fit. You're ' the right. Let's in then, and conclude.