Wincott. The lands that I have left, You lend me for the short space of my life; As soon as Heaven calls me, they call you lord.-- First feast, and after mourn; we’ll, like some gallants That bury thrifty fathers, think’t no sin To wear blacks without, but other thoughts within. [_Exeunt_. THE WISE-WOMAN OF HOGSDON. _The Wise-Woman of Hogsdon_ was printed in 1638. Of its history nothing is known; that it was popular is implied by the statement on the title-page--“As it hath been sundry times acted with great applause.” The technical cleverness of the last Act is noticeable. In the original editions the play is divided into acts but not into scenes. These are now indicated for the first time. Hogsdon, _i.e._ Hoxton, in the parish of St. Leonard’s, Shoreditch, was described by Stow, in 1598, as “a large street with houses on both sides.” It was in the adjacent fields that the duel was fought between Ben Jonson and Gabriel Spenser, a player belonging to Henslowe’s company, which resulted in the death of the latter and put Jonson in peril of his life. DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. Young Chartley, a wild-headed Gentleman. Boyster, a blunt Fellow. Sencer, a conceited Gentleman. Haringfield, a civil Gentleman. Luce’s Father, a Goldsmith. Joseph, his Apprentice. Old Master Chartley. Sir Harry, a Knight, who is no Scholar. Sir Boniface, an ignorant Schoolmaster. Young Chartley’s Man. Old Chartley’s Men. Taber, Sir Harry’s Man. A Countryman, Client to the Wise-Woman. A Serving-man. Luce, a Goldsmith’s Daughter. The second Luce. Gratiana, Sir Harry’s Daughter. The Wise-Woman of Hogsdon. A Kitchen-maid. Two Citizens’ Wives. SCENE--London and Hogsdon. THE WISE-WOMAN OF HOGSDON. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I.--_A Room in a Tavern_. _Enter, as newly come from play_, Young Chartley, Sencer, Boyster, _and_ Haringfield. Young Chartley. Price of my life! now, if the devil have bones, These dice are made of his. Was ever such A cast seen in this age? Could any gull In Europe, saving myself, fling such a cast? Boyster. Ay. Young Chartley. No. Boyster. Yes. Young Chartley. But I say no: I have lost an hundred pound, And I will have my saying. Boyster. I have lost another hundred, I’ll have mine. Ay, yes, I flung a worse,--a worse by odds. Young Chartley. I cry you mercy, sir; losers may speak; I’ll not except ’gainst you: but let me see Which of these two that pocket up our cash Dares contradict me? Sencer. Sir, not I: I say you have had bad casting. Haringfield. So say I. Young Chartley. I say this hat’s not made of wool: Which of you all dares say the contrary? Sencer. It may be ’tis a beaver. Haringfield. Very likely so: ’tis not wool, but a plain beaver.