LITMIR.BIZ

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      Mrs. Cros. Let me ask her.

      Dap. No, I'll ask her.

      Ran. I'll throw up cross or pile[39] who shall ask her.

      Dap. Can you have the heart to say you will never more break a cheese-cake with me at New Spring Garden,[40] the Neat-house, or Chelsea? never more sit in my lap at a new play? never more wear a suit of knots of my choice? and, last of all, never more pass away an afternoon with me again in the Green Garret?—do not forget the Green Garret.

      Lucy. I wish I had never seen the Green Garret.—Damn the Green Garret!

      Dap. Damn the Green Garret!—You are strangely altered!

      Lucy. 'Tis you are altered.

      Dap. You have refused Colby's Mulberry-garden, and the French houses, for the Green Garret; and a little something in the Green Garret pleased you more than the best treat the other places could yield; and can you of a sudden quit the Green Garret?

      Lucy. Since you have a design to pawn me for the rent, 'tis time to remove my goods.

      Dap. Thou art extremely mistaken.

      Lucy. Besides, I have heard such strange things of you this morning.

      Dap. What things?

      Lucy. I blush to speak 'em.

      Dap. I know my innocence, therefore take my charge as a favour. What have I done?

      Lucy. Then know, vile wit, my mother has confessed just now thou wert false to me, to her too certain knowledge; and hast forced even her to be false to me too.

      Dap. Faults in drink, Lucy, when we are not ourselves, should not condemn us.

      Lucy. And now to let me out to hire like a hackney!—I tell you my own dear mother shall bargain for me no more; there are as little as I can bargain for themselves now-a-days, as well as properer women.

      Mrs. Cros. Whispering all this while!—Beware of his snares again: come away, child.

      Dap. Sweet, dear miss—

      Lucy. Bargain for me!—you have reckoned without your hostess, as they say. Bargain for me! bargain for me! [Exit.

      Dap. I must return, then, to treat with you.

      Mrs. Cros. Treat me no treatings, but take a word for all. You shall no more dishonour my daughter, nor molest my lodgings, as you have done at all hours.

      Dap. Do you intend to change 'em, then, to Bridewell, or Long's powdering-tub?[41]

      Mrs. Cros. No, to a bailiff's house, and then you'll be so civil, I presume, as not to trouble us.

      Ran. Here, will you have my comb again, Dapperwit?

      Dap. A pox! I think women take inconstancy from me worse than from any man breathing.

      Mrs. Cros. Pray, sir, forget me before you write your next lampoon. [Exit.

      Enter Sir Simon Addleplot in the dress of a Clerk.—Ranger retires to the background.

      Sir Sim. Have I found you? have I found you in your by-walks, faith and troth? I am almost out of breath in following you. Gentlemen when they get into an alley walk so fast, as if they had more earnest business there than in the broad streets.

      Dap. [Aside.]—How came this sot hither? Fortune has sent him to ease my choler.—You impudent rascal, who are you, that dare intrude thus on us? [Strikes him.

      Sir Sim. Don't you know me, Dapperwit? sure you know me. [Softly.

      Dap. Will thou dishonour me with thy acquaintance too? thou rascally, insolent, pen-and-ink man. [Strikes him again.

      Sir Sim. Oh! oh! sure you know me! pray know me. [Softly.

      Dap. By thy saucy familiarity, thou shouldst be a marker at a tennis-court, a barber, or a slave that fills coffee.

      Sir Sim. Oh! oh!

      Dap. What art thou? [Kicks him.

      Sir Sim. Nay, I must not discover myself to Ranger for a kick or two. Oh, pray hold, sir: by that you will know me. [Delivers him a letter.

      Dap. How, Sir Simon!

      Sir Sim. Mum, mum, make no excuses, man; I would not Ranger should have known me for five hundred—kicks.

      Dap. Your disguise is so natural, I protest, it will excuse me.

      Sir Sim. I know that, prithee make no excuses, I say. No ceremony between thee and I, man:—read the letter.

      Dap. What, you have not opened it!

      Sir Sim. Prithee, don't be angry, the seal is a little cracked: for I could not help kissing Mrs. Martha's letter. The word is, now or never. Her father she finds will be abroad all this day, and she longs to see your friend Sir Simon Addleplot:—faith 'tis a pretty jest; while I am with her, and praising myself to her at no ordinary rate. Let thee and I alone at an intrigue.

      Dap. Tell her I will not fail to meet her at the place and time. Have a care of your charge; and manage your business like yourself, for yourself.

      Sir Sim. I warrant you.

      Dap. The gaining Gripe's daughter will make me support the loss of this young jilt here. [Aside.

      Ran. [Coming forward.] What fellow's that?

      Dap. A servant to a friend of mine.

      Ran. Methinks he something resembles our acquaintance Sir Simon; but it is no compliment to tell him so: for that knight is the most egregious coxcomb that ever played with lady's fan.

      Sir Sim. So! thanks to my disguise, I know my enemies! [Aside.

      Ran. The most incorrigible ass, beyond the reproof of a kicking rival or a frowning mistress. But, if it be possible, thou dost use him worse than his mistress or rival can; thou dost make such a cully of him.

      Sir Sim. Does he think so too? [Aside.

      Dap. Go, friend, go about your business.—[Exit Sir Simon.] A pox! you would spoil all, just in the critical time of projection. He brings me here a summons from his mistress, to meet her in the evening; will you come to my wedding?

      Ran. Don't speak so loud, you'll break poor Lucy's heart. Poor creature, she cannot leave you; and, rather than leave her, you would leave writing of lampoons or sonnets—almost.

      Dap. Come, let her go, ungrateful baggage!—But now you talk of sonnets, I am no living wit if her love has not cost me two thousand couplets at least.

      Ran. But what would you give, now, for a new satire against women, ready made?—'Twould be as convenient to buy satires against women ready made, as it is to buy cravats ready tied.

      Dap. Or as—

      Ran. Hey, come away, come away, Mr., or as—[Exeunt.

      SCENE III.—A Room in Mrs. Crossbite's House.

      Enter Mrs. Joyner and Gripe.

      Gripe. Peace, plenty, and pastime be within these walls!

      Mrs. Joyn. 'Tis a small house, you see, and mean furniture; for no gallants are suffered to come hither. She might have had ere now as good lodgings as any in town; her Mortlake[42] hangings, great glasses, cabinets, china, embroidered beds, Persia carpets, gold-plate, and the like, if

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