ye, Sir, she's so beautiful, you need no Portion, that
alone's sufficient for Wit.

_Feth._ Much good may do you with your rich Lady, _Edward._

_Blunt._ Death, this Fool laugh at me too-- well, I am an errant
right-down Loggerhead, a dull conceited cozen'd silly Fool; and he that
ever takes me for any other, 'Dshartlikins, I'll beat him. I forgive you
all, and will henceforth be good-natur'd; wo't borrow any Money? Pox
on't, I'll lend as far as e'er 'twill go, for I am now reclaim'd.

_Guar._ Here is a Necklace of Pearl lost, which, Sir, I lay to your
Charge.
[To _Fetherfool_.

_Feth._ Hum, I was bewitcht I did not rub off with it when it was
mine-- who, I? if e'er I saw a Necklace of Pearl, I wish 'twere in my
Belly.

_Blunt._ How a Necklace! unconscionable Rogue, not to let me share:
well, there is no Friendship in the World; I hope they'l hang him.

_Shift._ He'll ne'er confess without the Rack-- come, we'll toss him in
a Blanket.

_Feth._ Hah, toss me in a Blanket, that will turn my Stomach most
villainously, and I shall disimbogue and discover all.

_Shift._ Come, come, the Blanket. [They lay hold on him.

_Feth._ Hold, hold, I do confess, I do confess--

_Shift._ Restore, and have your Pardon.

_Feth._ That is not in Nature at present, for Gentlemen, I have eat 'em.

_Shift._ 'Sdeath, I'll dissect ye. [Goes to draw.

_Will._ Let me redeem him; here Boy, take him to my Chamber, and let the
Doctor glyster him soundly, and I'll warrant you your Pearl again.

_Feth._ If this be the end of travelling, I'll e'en to old _England_
again, take the Covenant, get a Sequestrator's Place, grow rich, and
defy all Cavaliering.

_Beau._ 'Tis Morning, let's home, _Ariadne_, and try, if possible, to
love so well to be content to marry; if we find that amendment in our
Hearts, to say we dare believe and trust each other, then let it be a
Match.

_Aria._ With all my Heart.

_Will._ You have a hankering after Marriage still, but I am for Love and
Gallantry.
So tho by several ways we gain our End,
Love still, like Death, does to one Center tend.

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Mrs. _BARRY_.

_Poets are Kings of Wit, and you appear
A Parliament, by Play-Bill, summon'd here;
When e'er in want, to you for aid they fly,
And a new Play's the Speech that begs supply:
But now--
The scanted Tribute is so slowly paid,
Our Poets must find out another Trade;
They've tried all ways th' i