And by it standing one whose name is "Dee,"
In a "rug" gown, there's "D," and "Rug," that's "drug:"
And right anenst him a dog snarling "er;"
There's "Drugger," Abel Drugger. That's his sign.
And here's now mystery and hieroglyphic!

FACE. Abel, thou art made.

DRUG. Sir, I do thank his worship.

FACE. Six o' thy legs more will not do it, Nab.
He has brought you a pipe of tobacco, doctor.

DRUG. Yes, sir;
I have another thing I would impart--

FACE. Out with it, Nab.

DRUG. Sir, there is lodged, hard by me,
A rich young widow--

FACE. Good! a bona roba?

DRUG. But nineteen, at the most.

FACE. Very good, Abel.

DRUG. Marry, she's not in fashion yet; she wears
A hood, but it stands a cop.

FACE. No matter, Abel.

DRUG. And I do now and then give her a fucus--

FACE. What! dost thou deal, Nab?

SUB. I did tell you, captain.

DRUG. And physic too, sometime, sir; for which she trusts me
With all her mind. She's come up here of purpose
To learn the fashion.

FACE. Good (his match too!)--On, Nab.

DRUG. And she does strangely long to know her fortune.

FACE. Ods lid, Nab, send her to the doctor, hither.

DRUG. Yes, I have spoke to her of his worship already;
But she's afraid it will be blown abroad,
And hurt her marriage.

FACE. Hurt it! 'tis the way
To heal it, if 'twere hurt; to make it more
Follow'd and sought: Nab, thou shalt tell her this.
She'll be more known, more talk'd of; and your widows
Are ne'er of any price till they be famous;
Their honour is their multitude of suitors.
Send her, it may be thy good fortune. What!
Thou dost not know.

DRUG. No, sir, she'll never marry
Under a knight: her brother has made a vow.

FACE. What! and dost thou despair, my little Nab,
Knowing what the doctor has set down for thee,
And seeing so many of the city dubb'd?
One glass o' thy water, with a madam I know,
Will have it done, Nab: what's her brother, a knight?

DRUG. No, sir, a gentleman newly warm in his land, sir,
Scarce cold in his one and twenty, that does govern
His sister here; and is a man himself
Of some three thousand a year, and is come up
To learn to quarrel, and to live by his wits,
And will go down again, and die in the country.

FACE. How! to quarrel?

DRUG. Yes, sir, to carry quarrels,
As gallants do; to manage them by line.

FACE. 'Slid, Nab, the doctor is the