Mere-craft, Ingine, Wittipol.
How goes the Cry?
Ing.
Excellent well!
Mer.
Will't d o?
Where's Robinson?
Ing.
Here is the Gentleman, Sir,
Will undertake 't himself. I have acquainted him.
Mer.
Why did you so?
Ing.
Why, Robinson would ha' told him,
You know. And he's a pleasant Wit! will hurt
Nothing you purpose. Then, he's of Opinion,
That Robinson might want audacity,
She being such a Gallant. Now, he has been
In Spain, and knows the Fashions there; and can
Discourse; and being but mirth (he says) leave much
[He excepts at
To his care.
Mer.
But he is too tall!
his Stature.
Ing.
For that,
He has the bravest Device (you'll love him for't)
To say, he wears Cioppinos: and they do so
In Spain. And Robinson's as tall as he.
Mer.
Is he so?
Ing.
Every jot.
Mer.
Nay, I had rather
To trust a Gentleman with it o' the two.
Ing.
Pray you go to him then, Sir, and salute him.
Mer.
Sir, my Friend Ingine has acquainted you
With a strange business, here.
Wit.
A merry one, Sir.
The Duke of Drown'd-Land, and his Dutchess?
Mer.
Yes, Sir.
Now, that the Conjurers ha' laid him by,
I ha' made bold to borrow him a while.
Wit.
With purpose, yet, to put him out I hope
To his best use.
Mer.
Yes, Sir.
Wit.
For that small part,
That I am trusted with, put off your care:
I would not lose to do it, for the mirth
Will follow of it; and well, I have a fancy.
Mer.
Sir, that will make it well.
Wit.
You will report it so.
Where must I have my dressing?
Ing.
At my House, Sir.
Mer.
You shall have caution, Sir, for what he yields,
To six Pence.
Wit.
You shall pardon me. I will share, Sir,
I' your Sports, only: nothing i' your purchace.
But you must furnish me with Complements,
To th' manner of Spain; my Coach, my guarda duenna's;
Mer.
Ingine's your Pro'vedor. But, Sir, I must
(Now I' have entred trust wi' you, thus far)
Secure still i' your Quality, acquaint you
With somewhat beyond this. The Place design'd
To be the Scene, for this our merry Matter,
Because it must have countenance of Women,
To draw discourse, and offer it, is here by,
At the Lady-Tailbushes.
Wit.
I know her, Sir,
And her Gentleman huisher.
Mer.
Mr. Ambler?
Wit.
Yes, Sir.
Mer.
Sir, It shall be no shame to me, to confess
To you, that we poor Gentlemen, that want Acres,
Must for our needs, turn Fools up, and plough Ladies
Sometime, to try what gleb they are: and this
Is no unfruitful Piece. She and I now
Are on a Project, for the Fact, and venting
Of a new kind of Fucus (paint for Ladies)
To serve the Kingdom: wherein she her self
Hath travaill'd, specially, by way of Service
Unto her Sex, and hopes to get the Monopoly,
As the Reward of her Invention.
Wit.
What is her end in this?
Ev.
Merely Ambition,
Sir, to grow great, and court it with the Secret:
Though she pretend some other. For, she's dealing,
Already, upon caution for the shares,
And Mr. Ambler, is he nam'd Examiner
For the Ingredients; and the Register
Of what is vented; and shall keep the Office.
Now, if she break with you, of this (as I
Must make the leading Thred to your acquaintance,
That, how Experience gotten i' your Being
Abroad, will help our Business) think of some
Pretty Additions, but to keep her floating:
It may be she will offer you a Part,
Any strange Names of —
Wit.
Sir, I have my Instructions.
Is it not high time to be making ready?
Mer.
Yes, Sir.
Ing.
The Fool's in sight, Dottrel.
Mer.
Away, then.