_Witty._ Good, turn _Ruinous_ to be a Constable, I'm sure We want not beards of all sorts, from the Worshipful Magistrate to the under Watchman; Because we must have no danger of life, But a cleanly cheat, attach _Credulous_, The cause is plain, the theft found about him; Then fall I in his own Cosins shape By mere accident, where finding him distrest, I with some difficulty must fetch him off, With promise that his Uncle shall shut up all With double restitution: Master Constable, _Ruinous_ His mouth shall be stopt; you, Mistriss rob-thief, Shall have your share of what we can gull my Father of; Is't plain enough? _L. Rui._ As plain a cozenage as can be, faith. _Witty._ Father, I come again, and again when this is Past too, Father, one will beget another; I'd be loath to leave your posterity barren, You were best [to] come to composition Father, Two hundred pieces yearly allow me yet, It will [be] cheaper (Father) than my wit, For I will cheat none but you, dear Father. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._ _Enter_ Old Knight, _and_ Sir Gregory. _Old K._ Why now you take the course Sir _Gregory Fop_: I could enforce her, and I list, but love That's gently won, is a man's own for ever, Have you prepar'd good Musick? _Sir Gr._ As fine a noise, Uncle, as heart can wish. _O[l]d K._ Why that's done like a Suitor, They must be woo'd a hundred several ways, Before you obtain the right way in a woman, 'Tis an odd creature, full of creeks and windings. The Serpent has not more; for sh'as all his, And then her own beside came in by her mother. _Sir Gr._ A fearful portion for a man to venture on. _Old K._ But the way found once by the wits of men, There is no creature lies so tame agen. _Sir Gr._ I promise you, not a house-Rabbit, Sir. _Old K._ No sucker on 'em all. _Sir Gr._ What a thing's that? They're pretty fools I warrant, when they'r tame As a man can lay his lips [to]. _Old K._ How were you bred, Sir? Did you never make a fool of a Tenants daughter? _Sir Gr._ Never i'faith, they ha' made some fools for me, And brought 'em many a time under their aprons. _Old [K]_ They could not shew you the way plainlier, I think, To make a fool again. _Sir Gr._ There's fools enough, Sir, 'Less they were wiser. _Old K._ This is wondrous rare, Come you to _London_ with a Maiden-head, Knight? A Gentleman of your rank ride with a Cloak-bag? Never an Hostess by the way to leave it with? Nor Tapsters Sister? nor head-Ostlers Wife? What no body? _Sir Gr._ Well mock'd old Wit-monger, I keep it for your Neece.