Mam. Not mine own stuff? Lov. Sir, I can take no knowledge, That they are yours but by publick means. If you can bring Certificate, that you were gull'd of 'em, That you did cozen your self, I will not hold them. Mam. I'll rather lose 'em. Lov. That you shall not, Sir, 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? Lov. What a great loss in Hope have you sustained? Mam. Not I, the Commonwealth has. Fac. I, he would ha' built The City new; and made a Ditch about it Of Silver, should have run with Cream from Hogsden; Mam. I will go mount a Turnip -cart, and preach Come, let us go, and hearken out the Rogues. Fac. If I can hear of him, Sir, I'll bring you word Out of this Den of Thieves. Lov. What is that portion? Ana. The Goods, sometimes the Orphans, that the Brethren Bought with their Silver Pence. Lov. What, those i' the Cellar, The Knight Sir Mammon claims? Ana. I do defie 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 numbred, In the eighth month, upon the Table dormant, Lov. Mine earnest vehement Botcher, Lov. Another too? Dru. Not I Sir, I am no Brother. Lov. Away you Harry Nicholas, do you talk? And satisfie him; tell him, all is done: Go. [To the Parson. The Doctor, he shall hear of him at Westchester; Kas. Come on, you yew, you have match'd most sweetly, ha' you not? Did not I say, I would never ha' you tupt But by a dubb'd Boy, to make you a Lady Tom? [To his Sister. 'Slight, you are a Mammet! OI could touse you, now. Why do you not buckle to your Tools? Kas. Gods light! This is a fine old Boy, as ere I saw! Lov. 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. Lov. O, do you so, Sir. Kas. Yes, an' thou canst take Tobacco, and drink, old Boy, I'll give her five hundred Pound more to her marriage, Than her own State. Lov. Fill a Pipe-full, Jeremy. Fac. Yes, but go in, and take it, Sir. Lov. We will. I will be rul'd by thee in any thing, Jeremy. Kas. 'Slight, thou art not hide-bound! thou art a Jovy' Boy! Come let's in. I pry'thee, and take our whiffs. Lov. Whiff in with your Sister, brother Boy. That Master That had receiv'd such happiness by a Servant, In such a Widow, and with so much Wealth, Were very ungrateful, if he would not be A little indulgent to that Servants wit, And help his Fortune, though with some small strain And kind Spectators, if I have out-stript An old Mans gravity, or strict Canon, think Speak for thy self, Knave. Fac. So I will, Sir. Gentlemen, Yet 'twas decorum. And though I am clean "LOCKE is one of the greatest philosophers and most powerful writers that ever adorned this country, celebrated not only by his wisdom, but by his piety and virtue, by his love of truth and diligence in the pursuit of it, and by a noble ardour in defence of the civil and religious rights of mankind. He possessed a noble and lofty mind, superior to prejudice and capable, by its native energy, of exploring the truth, even in the regions of the intellectual world before unknown; his judgement was accurate and profound, his imagination vigorous, as he was well furnished with the ornaments of elegant learning." The (London) Cyclopædia. |