for I am now reclaim'd. Guar. Here is a Necklace of Pearl lost, which,
   Sir, I lay to your Charge. [To Fetherfool. Feth. Hum, I was bewitcht I
   did not rub off with it when it was mine- who, I? if e'er I saw a
   Necklace of Pearl, I wish 'twere in my Belly. Blunt. How a Necklace!
   unconscionable Rogue, not to let me share: well, there is no
   Friendship in the World; I hope they'l hang him. Shift. He'll ne'er
   confess without the Rack- come, we'll toss him in a Blanket. Feth.
   Hah, toss me in a Blanket, that will turn my Stomach most
   villainously, and I shall disimbogue and discover all. Shift. Come,
   come, the Blanket. [They lay hold on him. Feth. Hold, hold, I do
   confess, I do confess- Shift. Restore, and have your Pardon. Feth.
   That is not in Nature at present, for Gentlemen, I have eat 'em.
   Shift. 'Sdeath, I'll dissect ye. [Goes to draw. Will. Let me redeem
   him; here Boy, take him to my Chamber, and let the Doctor glyster him
   soundly, and I'll warrant you your Pearl again. Feth. If this be the
   end of travelling, I'll e'en to old England again, take the Covenant,
   get a Sequestrator's Place, grow rich, and defy all Cavaliering. Beau.
   'Tis Morning, let's home, Ariadne, and try, if possible, to love so
   well to be content to marry; if we find that amendment in our Hearts,
   to say we dare believe and trust each other, then let it be a Match.
   Aria. With all my Heart. Will. You have a hankering after Marriage
   still, but I am for Love and Gallantry. So tho by several ways we gain
   our End, Love still, like Death, does to one Center tend, EPILOGUE.
   Spoken by Mrs. BARRY. POETS are Kings of Wit, and you appear A
   Parliament, by Play-Bill, summon'd here; When e'er in want, to you for
   aid they fly, And a new Play's the Speech that begs supply: But now-
   The scanted Tribute is so slowly paid, Our Poets must find out another
   Trade; They've tried all ways th' insatiate Clan to please, Have
   parted with their old Prerogatives, Their Birth-right Satiring, and
   their just pretence Of judging even their own Wit and Sense; And write
   against their Consciences, to show How dull they can he to comply with
   you. They've flatter'd all the Mutineers i'th' Nation, Grosser than
   e'er was done in Dedication; Pleas'd your sick Palates with Fantastick
   Wit, Such as was ne'er a treat before to th' Pit; Giants, fat
   Cardinals, Pope Joans and Fryers, To entertain Right Worshipfuls and
   Squires: Who laugh and cry Ads Nigs, 'tis woundy good, When the
   fuger's all the Jest that's understood. And yet you'll come but once,
   unless by stealth, Except the Author be for Commonwealth; Then half
   Crown more you nobly throw away, And tho my Lady seldom see a Play,
   She, with her eldest Daughter, shall be boxt that day. Then Prologue
   comes, Ads-lightikins, crys Sir John, You shall hear notable Conceits
   anon: How neatly, Sir, he'll bob the Court and French King, And tickle
   away- you know who- for Wenching. All this won't do, they e'en may
   spare their Speeches, For all their greasing will not buy 'em
   Britches; To get a penny new found ways must take, As forming Popes,
   and Squibs and Crackers make. In Coffee-Houses some their talent vent,
   Rail for the Cause against the Government, And make a pretty thriving
   living on't, For who would let a useful Member want. Things being
   brought to this distressed Estate, 'Twere fit you took the matter in
   Debate. There was a time, when Loyally by you, True Wit and Sense
   received Allegiance due, Our King of Poets had his Tribute pay'd, His
   Peers secur'd beneath his Laurel's shade. What Crimes have they
   committed, they must be Driven to the last and worst Extremity? Oh,
   let it not be said of English Men, Who have to Wit so just and noble
   been, They should their Loyal Principles recant, And let the glorious
   Monarch of it want. THE END .