CAPT. All, all; some of the company are below already. I have so blown it about, one porter is gone to the Exchange to invite Master Wild's merchant to his wedding, and, by the way, to bid two or three fruiterers to send in fruit for such a wedding; another in my lady's name to Sall's for sweetmeats. I swore at Bradborn in his shop myself, that I wondered he would disappoint Master Wild for his points, and having so long warning: he protested 'twas not his fault, but they were ready, and he would send John with them presently. One of the watermen is gone to the Melon garden; the other to Cook's, at the Bear, for some bottles of his best wine; and thence to Gracious Street to the poulterer's, and all with directions to send in provisions for Master Wild's wedding. And who should I meet at the door but apricock Tom and Mary, waiting to speak with her young master? They came to beg that they might serve the feast. I promised them they should, if they would cry it up and down the town, to bring company, for Master Wild was resolved to keep open house. JOLLY. Why, then, here will be witnesses enough. CAPT. But who should I meet at the corner of the Piazza, but Joseph Taylor:[272] he tells me there's a new play at the Friars to-day, and I have bespoke a box for Master Wild and his bride. JOLLY. And did not he wonder to hear he was married? CAPT. Yes; but I told him 'twas a match his aunt made for him when he was abroad. JOLLY. And I have spread it sufficiently at court, by sending to borrow plate for such a wedding. _Enter a_ SERVANT. SER. There's half a dozen coachfuls of company lighted: they call for the bridelaces and points. CAPT. Let the fiddlers play, then, and bid God give them joy by the name of my Lady Careless and Mistress Wild. FID. Where shall we play, sir? JOLLY. Come with us, we'll show you the window. SCENE II. [_The_ FIDDLERS _play in the tiring-room; and the stage curtains are drawn, and discover a chamber, as it were, with two beds, and the ladies asleep in them_, MASTER WILD _being at_ MISTRESS PLEASANT'S _bedside, and_ MASTER CARELESS _at the_ WIDOW'S. _The music awakes the_ WIDOW. WID. Niece, niece, niece Pleasant. [_She opens the curtain and calls her: she is under a canopy_. PLEA. Ha! I hear you, I hear you; what would you have? WID. Do you not hear the fiddlers? PLEA. Yes, yes; but you have waked me from the finest dream---- WID. A dream! what was't, some knavery! PLEA. Why, I know not, but 'twas merry; e'en as pleasing as some sins. Well, I'll lie no more in a man's bed, for fear I lose more than I get. WID. Hark! that's a new tune. PLEA. Yes, and they play it well. This is your janty nephew: I would he had less of the father in him, I'd venture to dream out my dream with him. O' my conscience, he's worth a dozen of my dull servant; that's such a troublesome visitant, without any kind of conveniency.