sharpened you upon one another.

_Isa_. A wit should naturally be joined to a fortune; by the same
reason your vintners feed their hungry wines.

_Const_. And if Sir Timorous and I had married, we two fortunes
must have built hospitals with our money; we could never have spent it
else.

_Lov_. Or what think you of paying courtiers' debts with it?

_Isa_. Well, to shew I am in charity with my enemies, I'll make
a motion: While we are in town, let us hire a large house, and live
together: Burr and Failer--

_Fail_. Shall be utterly discarded; I knew 'twould come to that,
I vow to gad.

_Isa_. Shall be our guests.

[_BURR and FAILER throw up their caps, and cry, Vive Madam
ISABELLA!_

_Lov_. And Bibber shall make our wedding clothes without
trusting.

_Bib_. No, henceforward I'll trust none but landed men, and such
as have houses and apple-trees in the country, now I have got a place
in the custom-house.

_Fran_. Nothing vexes me, but that this flirting gentlewoman
should go before me; but I'll to the herald's office, and see whether
the queen's majesty's dresser, should not take place of any knight's
wife in Christendom.

_Bib_. Now all will out--no more, good Frances.

_Fran_. I will speak, that I will, so I will: What! shall I be a
dresser to the queen's majesty, and nobody must know on't? I'll
send Mr Church-warden word on't; and, gentlemen, when you come to St
Bride's church (if ever you come to church, gentlemen), you shall see
me in the pew that's next the pulpit; thank Mr Loveby's worship for
it.

_Lov_. Spare your thanks, good landlady; for the truth is, they
came too late, the place is gone; and so is yours, Will; but you shall
have two hundred pounds for one, if that will satisfy you.

_Fran_. This is bitter news, as they say.

_Lov_. Cheer up thy wife, Will. Where are the fiddles? A dance
should do it.

_Bib_. I'll run and call them.

_Isa_. I have found out that, will comfort her: Henceforward I
christen her by the name of Madam Bibber.

_All_. A Madam Bibber, a Madam Bibber!

_Fran_. Why, I thank you, sweet gentlemen and ladies; this is a
cordial to my drooping spirits: I confess I was a little eclipsed; but
I'll cheer up with abundance of love, as they say. Strike up, fiddles.

_Lov_. That's a good wench.

DANCE.

_Trice_. This music and a little nod has recovered me. I'll in,
and provide for the sack posset.

_Non_. To bed, to bed; 'tis late. Son Loveby, get me a boy
to-ni