_Witty._ A male habit, a bag of an hunder'd weight, though it be Counters (for my _Alchimy_ shall turn 'em into Gold of my Fathers) the hour, the place, the action shall be at large set down, and Father, you shall know, that I put my portion to use, that you have given me to live by; And to confirm your self in me renate, I hope you'll find my wits legitimate. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._ _Enter Lady and Servants._ _Serv._ Nay Lady. _Lady._ Put me not in mind on't, prethee, You cannot do a greater wrong to Women, For in our wants, 'tis the most chief affliction To have that name remembred; 'tis a Title That misery mocks us by, and the worlds malice, Scorn and contempt has not wherewith to work On humble Callings; they are safe, and lye Level with pitty still, and pale distress Is no great stranger to 'em; but when fortune Looks with a stormy face on our conditions, We find affliction work, and envy pastime, And our worst enemy than that most abuses us, Is that we are call'd by, Lady, Oh my spirit, Will nothing make thee humble? I am well methinks, And can live quiet with my fate sometimes, Until I look into the world agen, Then I begin to rave at my Stars bitterness, To see how many muckhils plac'd above me; Peasants and Droyls, Caroches full of Dunghils, Whose very birth stinks in a generous nostril, Glistring by night like Glow-worms through the High streets Hurried by Torch-light in the Foot-mans hands That shew like running Fire-drakes through the City, And I put to my shifts and wits to live, Nay sometimes danger too; on Foot, on Horseback, And earn my supper manfully e'r I get it, Many a meal I have purchas'd at that rate, _Enter_ Priscian. Fed with a wound upon me, stampt at midnight. Hah, what are you? _Pris._ Now you may tell your self, Lady. [_Pulls off's beard._ _Lady._ Oh Mr. _Priscian_, what's the project, For you n'er come without one. _Pris._ First, your Husband, Sir _Ruinous Gentry_ greets you with best wishes, And here has sent you your full share by me In five Cheats and two Robberies. _Lady._ And what comes it too? _Prisc._ Near upon thirteen pound. _Lady._ A goodly share, 'Twill put a Lady scarce in Philip and Cheyney, With three small Bugle Laces, like a Chambermaid, Here's precious lifting. _Pris._ 'Las you must consider, Lady, 'Tis but young Term, Attornies ha small doings yet, Then Highway Lawyers, they must needs ha little, We'ave had no great good luck to speak troth, Beauty, Since your stout Ladyship parted from's at _Highgate_, But there's a fair hope now for a present hunder'd, Here's mans Apparel, your Horse stands at door. _Lady._ And what's the virtuous plot now?