Mother _Suds_ for Washing; and do you fob me
off with my Husband?

_Gay_. Here, _Rag_, run and fetch her a Pint of Sack--there's no other
way of quenching the Fire in her flabber Chops.

[_Exit_ Rag.

--But, my dear Landlady, have a little Patience.

_Land_. Patience! I scorn your Words, Sir--is this a place to trust in?
tell me of Patience, that us'd to have my money before hand; come, come,
pay me quickly--or old _Gregory Grimes_ house shall be too hot to
hold you.

_Gay_. Is't come to this, can I not be heard?

_Land_. No, Sir, you had good Clothes when you came first, but they
dwindled daily, till they dwindled to this old Campaign--with tan'd
coloured Lining--once red--but now all Colours of the Rain-bow, a Cloke
to sculk in a Nights, and a pair of piss-burn'd shammy Breeches. Nay,
your very Badge of Manhood's gone too.

_Gay_. How, Landlady! nay then, i'faith, no wonder if you rail so.

_Land_. Your Silver Sword I mean--transmogrified to this two-handed
Basket Hilt--this old Sir _Guy_ of _Warwick_--which will sell for
nothing but old Iron. In fine, I'll have my money, Sir, or i'faith,
_Alsatia_ shall not shelter you.

_Enter_ Rag.

_Gay_. Well, Landlady--if we must part--let's drink at parting; here,
Landlady, here's to the Fool--that shall love you better than I have
done. [_Sighing, drinks_.

_Land_. Rot your Wine--dy'e think to pacify me with Wine, Sir?

[_She refusing to drink, he holds open her Jaws_, Rag
_throws a Glass of Wine into her Mouth_.

--What, will you force me?--no--give me another Glass, I scorn to be so
uncivil to be forced, my service to you, Sir--this shan't do, Sir.

[_She drinks, he, embracing her, sings_.

_Ah_, Cloris, _'tis in vain you scold,
Whilst your Eyes kindle such a Fire.
Tour Railing cannot make me cold,
So fast as they a Warmth inspire_.

_Land_. Well, Sir, you have no reason to complain of my Eyes nor my
Tongue neither, if rightly understood. [_Weeps_.

_Gay_. I know you are the best of Landladies,
As such I drink your Health-- [_Drinks_.
But to upbraid a Man in Tribulation--fie--'tis not done like a Woman
of Honour, a Man that loves you too.

[She drinks.

_Land_. I am a little hasty sometimes, but you know my good Nature.

_Gay_. I do, and therefore trust my little wants with you. I shall be
rich aga