Host, Ferret, Lovel.
My Guest, My Guest, be jovial, I beseech thee.
I have fresh golden Guests, Guests o' the Game:
Three Coach full! Lords! and Ladies! new come in.
And I will cry them to thee, and thee to them,
So can I spring a Smile, but i' this Brow,
That like the rugged Roman Alderman --
Old Master gross, surnam'd AgelastoV [Enter Ferret.
Was never seen to laugh, but as an Ass.
Fer. Sir, here's Lady Frampul. Lov. How! Fer. And her train,
Lord Beaufort, and Lord Latimer, the Colonel
Tripto', with Mrs. Cis, the Chamber-maid:
Trundle, the Coachman -- Lov. Stop, discharge the House:
And get my Horses ready, bid the Groom
Bring them to the back Gate. Hos. What mean you, Sir?
Lov. To take fair leave, mine Host. Hos. I hope, my Guest,
Though I have talked somewhat above my share,
At large, and been i' the Altitudes, th' Extravagants,
Neither my self, nor any of mine have gi'n you
The cause to quit my House thus on the sudden.
Lov. No, I affirm it on my Faith. Excuse me
From such a rudeness; I was now beggining
To taste and love you: and am heartily sorry,
Any occasion should be so compelling,
To urge my abrupt departure thus. But --
Necessity is a Tyrant, and commands it.
Hos. She shall command me first to fire my Bush;
Then break up House: Or, if that will not serve,
To break with all the World. Turn Country Bankrupt,
I' mine own Town, upo' the Market-day,
And be protested for my Butter and Eggs,
To the last Bodge of Oats, and Bottle of Hay;
Ere you shall leave me I will break my Heart:
Coach, and Coach-horses, Lords, and Ladies Pack?
All my fresh Guests shall stink! I'll pull my Sign down,
Convert mine Inn to an Alms-house! or a Spittle
For Lazers, or Switch-sellers! Turn it to
An Academy o' Rogues! or g'it away
For a free-School to breed up Beggars in,
And send 'em to the canting Universities
Before you leave me. Lov. Troth, and I confess
I am loth, mine Host, to leave you: your Expressions
Both take and hold me. But, in case I stay,
I must enjoin you and your whole Family
To privacy, and to conceal me. For,
The Secret is, I would not willingly
See, or be seen, to any of this Ging,
Especially the Lady. Hos. Brain o'man,
What Monster is she? or Cocatrice in Velvet,
That kills thus? Lov. O good words, mine Host. She is
A noble Lady! great in Blood and Fortune!
Fair! and a Wit! but of so bent a Phant'sie,
As she thinks naught a Happiness, but to have
A multitude of Servants! and to get them,
(Though she be very honest) yet she ventures
Upon these Precipices, that would make her
Not seem so, to some prying, narrow natures.
We call her, Sir, the Lady Frances Frampul,
Daughter and Heir to the Lord Frampul! Hos. Who?
He that did love in Oxford, first a Student,
And after, married with the Daughter of -- Lov. Silly.
Hos. Right, of whom the Tale went, to turn Puppet-master.
Lov. And travel with young Goose, the Motion-man.
Hos. And lie, and live with the young Gipsies half a year
Together, from his Wife. Lov. The very same:
The mad Lord frampul! And this same is his Daughter!
But as c*ck-brain'd as ere the Father was!
These were Two of 'em, Frances and Laetitia;
But Laetice was lost young; and, as the Rumour
Flew then, the Mother upon it lost her self.
A fond weak Woman, went away in a Melancholy,
Because she brought him none but Girls, she thought
Her Husband lov'd her not. And he, as foolish,
Too late resenting the cause giv'n, went after,
In quest of her, and was not heard of since.
Hos. A strange division of a Family!
Lov. And scattered as i' the great confusion!
Hos. But yet the Lady, th' Heir, enjoys the Land.
Lov. And takes all lordly ways how to consume it
As nobly as she can; if Clothes, and Feasting,
And the authoriz'd means of Riot will do it.
Host. She shews her Extract, and I honour her for it.