THE

WILD GALLANT.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-FAILER entering to BURR, who is putting on his buff-coat.

Fail. What! not ready yet, man?

Burr. You do not consider my voyage

land last night.

from Hol

Fail. Pish, a mere ferry; get up, get up: My cousin's maids will come and blanket thee anon: art thou not ashamed to lie a-bed so long?

Burr. I may be more ashamed to rise; and so

you'll say, dear heart, if you look upon my clothes :

the best is, my buff-coat will cover all.

Fail. Egad, there goes more cunning than one would think to the putting thy clothes together. Thy doublet and breeches are Guelphs and Ghibellins to one another; and the stitches of thy doublet are so far asunder, that it seems to hang together by the teeth. No man could ever guess to what part of the body these fragments did belong, unless he

had been acquainted with 'em as long as thou hast been. If they once lose their hold, they can never get together again, except by chance the rags hit the tallies of one another. He, that gets into thy doublet, must not think to do it by storm; no, he must win it inch by inch, as the Turk did Rhodes.

Burr. You are very merry with my wardrobe; but, till I am provided of a better, I am resolved to receive all visits in this truckle-bed.

Fail. Then will I first scotch the wheels of it, that it may not run: Thou hast cattle enough in it to carry it down stairs, and break thy neck; 'tis got a yard nearer the door already.

Enter Boy.

Boy. Sir, Mr Bibber your tailor's below, and desires to speak with you.

Fail. He's an honest fellow, and a fashionable; he shall set thee forth, I warrant thee.

Burr. Ay; but where's the money for this, dear heart?

[Aside.

Fail. Well, but what think you of being put into a suit of clothes without money? Burr. You speak of miracles.

Fail. Do you not know Will Bibber's humour? Burr. Pr'ythee, what have I to do with his humour?

Fail. Break but a jest, and he'll beg to trust thee for a suit; nay, he will contribute to his own destruction, and give thee occasions to make one. He has been my artificer these three years; and, all the while, I have lived upon his favourable apprehension. Boy, conduct him up. [Exit Boy.

Burr. But what am I the better for this? I ne'er made jest in all my life.

Fail. A bare clinch will serve the turn; a carwichet, a quarter-quibble, or a pun.

Burr. Wit from a Low Country soldier! One, that has conversed with none but dull Dutchmen these ten years! What an unreasonable rogue art thou? why, I tell thee, 'tis as difficult to me, as to pay him ready money.

Fail. Come, you shall be ruled for your own good; I'll throw the clothes over you to help meditation. And, upon the first opportunity, start you up, and surprise him with a jest.

Burr. Well, I think this impossible to be done : but, however, I'll attempt.

[Lies down, FAILER covers him.

Fail. Husht! he's coming up.

Enter BIBBER.

Bib. 'Morrow, Mr Failer: What, I warrant you think I come a dunning now?

Fail. No, I vow to gad, Will; I have a better opinion of thy wit, than to think thou would'st come to so little purpose.

Bib. Pretty well that: No, no, my business is to drink my morning's-draught in sack with you. Fail. Will not ale serve thy turn, Will? Bib. I had too much of that last night; I was a little disguised, as they say.

Fail. Why disguised? Hadst thou put on a clean band, or washed thy face lately? Those are thy disguises, Bibber.

Bib. Well, in short, I was drunk; damnably drunk with ale; great hogan-mogan bloody ale: I was porterly drunk, and that I hate of all things in

nature.

Burr, rising.] And of all things in nature I love it best.

Bib. Art thou there, i'faith? and why, old boy? Burr. Because, when I am porterly drunk, I can carry myself.

Bib. Ha, ha, boy.

Fail. This porter brings sad news to you, Will; you must trust him for a suit of clothes, as bad as 'tis: Come, he's an honest fellow, and loves the king.

Bib. Why, it shall be my suit to him, that I may trust him.

Burr. I grant your suit, sir.

Fail, Burr, make haste and dress you; Sir Timorous dines here to-day: you know him?

Burr. Aye, aye, a good honest young fellow; but no conjurer; he and I are very kind.

Fail. Egad, we two have a constant revenue out of him: He would now be admitted suitor to my Lady Constance Nonsuch, my Lord Nonsuch's daughter; our neighbour here in Fleetstreet.

Burr. Is the match in any forwardness?

Fail. He never saw her before yesterday, and will not be brought to speak to her this month yet. Burr. That's strange.

Fail. Such a bashful knight did I never see; but we must move for him.

Bib. They say, here's a great dinner to be made to-day here, at your cousin Trice's, on purpose for the interview.

Burr. What, he keeps up his old humour still? Fail. Yes, certain; he admires eating and drinking well, as much as ever, and measures every man's wit by the goodness of his palate.

Burr. Who dines here besides?
Fail. Jack Loveby.

Bib. O, my guest.

Burr. He has ever had the repute of a brave clear-spirited fellow.

Fail. He's one of your Dear Hearts, a debauchee. Burr. I love him the better fort: The best heraldry of a gentleman is a clap, derived to him from three generations. What fortune has he?

Fail. Good fortune at all games; but no estate: He had one; but he has made a devil on't long He's a bold fellow, I vow to gad: A person, ago. that keeps company with his betters; and commonly has gold in's pockets. Come, Bibber, I see thou longest to be at thy morning's watering: I'll try what credit I have with the butler.

Bib. Come away, my noble Festus and new cus

tomer.

Fail. Now will he drink, till his face be no bigger than a three-pence. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter LovEBY and Boy; followed by FRANCES, BIBBER's wife.

Lov. Nay, the devil take thee, sweet landlady, hold thy tongue: Was't not enough thou hast scolded me from my lodging, which, as long as I rent it, is my castle; but to follow me here to Mr Trice's, where I am invited; and to discredit me before strangers, for a lousy, paltry sum of money?

Fran. I tell you truly, Mr Loveby, my husband and I cannot live by love, as they say; we must have wherewithal, as they say; and pay for what we take; or some shall smoke for't.

Lov. Smoke! why a piece of hung beef in Holland is not more smoked, than thou hast smoked me already. Thou knowest I am now fasting; let me have but fair play; when I have lined my sides with a good dinner, I'll engage upon reputation to come home again, and thou shall scold at me all the afternoon.

Fran. I'll take the law on you.

Lov. The law allows none to scold in their own causes: What dost thou think the lawyers take our money for?