ely I know not: am I rub'd off? Is
this the way of all my morning Prayers? Oh _Roger_, thou art but grass,
and woman as a flower. Did I for this consume my quarters in Meditation,
Vowes, and wooed her in _Heroical Epistles_? Did I expound the Owl, and
undertook with labour and expence the recollection of those thousand
Pieces, consum'd in Cellars, and Tabacco-shops of that our honour'd
_Englishman Ni. Br._? Have I done this, and am I done thus too? I will end
with the wise man, and say; He that holds a Woman, has an Eel by the tail.

_Mar._ Sir 'tis so late, and our entertainment (meaning our Posset) by
this is grown so cold, that 'twere an unmannerly part longer to hold you
from your rest: let what the house has be at your command Sir.

_Wel._ Sweet rest be with you Lady; and to you what you desire too.

_Abig._ It should be some such good thing like your self then. [_Exeunt._

_Wel._ Heaven keep me from that curse, and all my issue. Good night
Antiquity.

_Rog._ _Solamen Miseris socios habuisse Doloris_: but I alone.

_Wel._ Learned Sir, will you bid my man come to me? and requesting a
greater measure of your learning, good night, good Master _Roger_.

_Rog._ Good Sir, peace be with you. [_Exit_ Roger.

_Wel._ Adue dear _Domine_. Half a dozen such in a Kingdom would make a man
forswear confession: for who that had but half his wits about him, would
commit the Counsel of a serious sin to such a cruel Night-cap? Why how now
shall we have an Antick? [_Enter Servant._
Whose head do you carry upon your shoulders, that you jole it so against
the Post? Is't for your ease? Or have you seen the Celler? Where are my
slippers Sir?

_Ser._ Here Sir.

_Wel._ Where Sir? have you got the pot Verdugo? have you seen the Horses
Sir?

_Ser._ Yes Sir.

_Wel._ Have they any meat?

_Ser._ Faith Sir, they have a kind of wholesome Rushes, Hay I cannot call
it.

_Wel._ And no Provender?

_Ser._ Sir, so I take it.

_Wel._ You are merry Sir, and why so?

_Ser._ Faith Sir, here are no Oats to be got, unless you'l have 'em in
Porredge: the people are so mainly given to spoon-meat: yonder's a cast of
Coach-mares of the Gentlewomans, the strangest Cattel.

_Wel._ Why?

_Ser._ Why, they are transparent Sir, you may see through them: and such a
house!

_Wel._ Come Sir, the truth of your discovery.

_Ser._ Sir, they are in tribes like Jewes: the Kitchin and the Dayrie make
one tribe, and have their faction