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Mam. Not mine own stuff? Lov. Sir, I can take no

That they are yours but by publick means.
If you can bring Certificate, that you were gulld of 'em,
Or any formal Writ out of a Court,
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;
That every Sunday in Moorfields, the Younkers,
And Tits, and Tom-boys should have fed on, gratis.

Mam. 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 my self,
With that 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.

Fac. If I can hear of him, Sir, I'll bring you word
Unto yourLodgings; for in troth, they were strangers
To me, I thought 'em honest, as my self, Sir. [They come forth.

Tri. 'Tis well, the Saints shall not lose all yet. Go,
And get some Carts -Lov. For what, my zealous Friends?

Ana. To bear away the portion of the righteous
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

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,
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?

Lov. 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.

Tri. Be patient, Ananias. Ana. I am strong,
And will stand up, well girt, against an Host,
That threaten Gad in exile. Lov. I shall send you
To Amsterdam to your Cellar. Ana. I will pray there,
Against thy House: may Dogs defile thy Walls,
And Wasps, and Hornets breed beneath thy Roof,
This seat of falshood, and this cave of coz'nage.
Lov. Another too? Dru. Not I Sir, I am no Brother.

[Drugger enters, and he beats him away. Lov. Away you Harry Nicholas, do


talk? Fac. No, this was Abel Drugger. Good Sir, Go.

[To the Parson. And satisfie him; tell him, all is done: He staid too long a washing of his Face. The Doctor, he shall hear of him at Westchester; And of the Captain, tell him, at Yarmouth, or Some good Port-town else, lying for a wind. If you get off the angry Child, now, Sir Kas. Come on, you yew, you have match'd most sweetly, ha' you not?

[To his Sister. Did not I say, I would never ha' you tupt But by a dubb’d Boy, to make you a Lady Tom? 'Slight, you are a Mammet! 0 I could touse you, now. Death, mun'you marry with a Pox? Lov. You lye, Boy! As sound as you and I am afore-hand with you. Kas. Anon?

Lov. Come, will you quarrel? I will seize you, Sirrah.


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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. 0, 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 cwn State. Lov. Fill a Pipe-full, Jeremy.

Fac. Yes, but go in, and take it, Sir. Lov. We will. I will be ruld by thee in any thing, Jeremy.

Kas. 'Slight, thou art not hide-bound! thou art a Jovy' Boy! Come let's in. 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 Of his own Candor. Therefore, Gentlemen, And kind Spectators, if I have out-stript An old Mans gravity, or strict Canon, think What a young Wife, and a good Brain may

do: Stretch ages truth sometimes, and crack it too. Speak for thy self, Knave. Fac. So I will, Sir. Gentlemen, My part a little fell in this last Scene, Yet 'twas decorum. And though I am clean Got off from Subtle, Surly, Mammon, Dol, Hot Ananias, Dapper, Drugger, all With whom I traded; yet I put my self On you, that are my Country: and this Pelf, Which I have got, if you do quit me, rests To feast you often, and invite new Guests.

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“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 or 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.

Vol. XXI.

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