e of Ducking-Pond, ads zoz.
[Sir _Cred._ dresses himself.
Well, I think I shall be fine anon, he.

_Cur._ But zo, zo, Sir, as the saying is, this Suit's a little out of
fashion, 'twas made that very year I came to your Worship, which is five
Winters, and as many Summers.

Sir _Cred._ What then Mun, I never wear it, but when I go to be drunk,
and give my Voice for a Knight o'th' Shire, and here at _London_ in Term
time, and that but eight times in Eight Visits to Eight several Ladies
to whom I was recommended.

_Cur._ I wonder that amongst eight you got not one, Sir.

Sir _Cred._ Eight! Zoz, I had Eight score, Mun; but the Devil was in
'em, they were all so forward, that before I cou'd seal and deliver,
whip, quoth _Jethro_, they were either all married to some body else,
or run quite away; so that I am resolv'd if this same _Lucretia_ proves
not right, I'll e'en forswear this Town and all their false Wares,
amongst which, zoz, I believe they vent as many false Wives as any
_Metropolitan_ in Christendom, I'll say that for't, and a Fiddle for't,
i'faith:--come give me my Watch out,--so, my Diamond Rings too: so,
I think I shall appear pretty well all together, _Curry_, hah?

_Lean._ Like some thing monstrously ridiculous, I'll be sworn.
[Aside.

_Cur._ Here's your Purse of broad Gold, Sir, that your Grandmother gave
you to go a wooing withal, I mean to shew, Sir.

Sir _Cred._ Ay, for she charg'd me never to part with it;--so, now for
the Ladies.
[Shakes his Ribbons.

Enter _Lodwick_.

_Lod._ _Leander_, what mak'st thou here, like a Holy-day Fool gazing at
a Monster?

_Lean._ Yes; And one I hope I have no great reason to fear.

_Lod._ I am of thy opinion; away, my Mother's coming; take this
opportunity with my Sister, she's i'th' Garden, and let me alone with
this Fool, for an Entertainment that shall shew him all at once: away--
[Exit _Lean._
[_Lod._ goes in to Sir _Cred._

Sir _Cred._ _Lodwick_, my dear Friend! and little Spark of
Ingenuity--Zoz, Man, I'm but just come to Town.
[Embrace.

_Lod._ 'Tis a joyful hearing, Sir.

Sir _Cred._ Not so joyful neither, Sir, when you shall know poor
_Gillian's_ dead, my little grey Mare; thou knew'st her, mun: Zoz, 'thas
made me as melancholy as the Drone of a _Lancashire_ Bag-pipe. But let
that pass; and now we talk of my Mare, Zoz, I long to see this Sister of
thine.

_Lod._ She'll be with you presently, Sir _Credulous_.

Sir