The Magnetick Lady. Act 5. Scene 5.

Rut, Needle, Interest,, Item, Lady, Polish, Chair, Keep, Placentia.

Hunting a Man half naked? you are fine Beagles!
You'd have his Dousets.

Nee. Yes, I see
Who hides the Treasure yonder.

Int. Ha? What treasure?

Rut. If you ask questions, he 'wakes presently:
And then you'll hear no more, till his next fit.

Nee. And whom she hides it for.
Rut. Do you mark, Sir? list.

Nee. A fine she Spirit it is, and indian Mag-pie.
She was an Aldermans Widow, and fell in love
With our Sir Moath, my Ladies Brother.

Rut. (Hear you?)

Nee. And she has hid an Aldermans Estate;
Dropt through her Bill in little holes, i' the Garden,
And scrapes Earth over 'em; where none can spy
But I, who see all by the Gloworms light,
That creeps before.

Pol. I knew the Gentlewoman;
Alderman Parrot' Widow, a fine Speaker,
As any was i' the Clothing, or the Bevy;
She did become her Scarlet, and black Velvet,
Her green, and purple --

Rut. Save thy colours, Rainbow,
Or she will run thee over, and all thy lights.

Pol. She dwelt in Doo-little Lane, a top o' the Hill there;
I' the round Cage, was after Sir Chime Squirrel's.
She would eat naught but Almonds, I assure you.

Rut. Would thou had'st a Dose of Pills, a double Dose,
O' the best purge, to make thee turn Tail, tother way.

Pol. You are a foul mouth'd, purging, absurd Doctor;
I tell you true, and I did long to tell it you.
You ha' spread a scandal i' my Ladies House here,
On her sweet Niece, you never can take off
With all your Purges, or your plaster of oaths;
Though you distil your Damn, drop by drop,
I' your defence. That she hath had a Child,
Here she doth spit unto thee, and defie thee;
Or I do't for her.

Rut. Madam, pray you bind her
To her behaviour. Tie your gossip up,
Or send her unto Bet'lem.

Pol. Go thou thither,
That better hast deserv'd it, shame of Doctors:
Where could she be deliver'd? by what charm,
Restor'd to her strength so soon? who is the Father?
Or where the Infant? Ask your Oracle,
That walks, and talks in his sleep.

Rut. Where is he gone?
You ha' lost a Fortune list' ning to her, to her Tabour.
Good Madam lock her up.

Lad. You must give losers
Their leave to speak, good Doctor.

Rut. Follow his footing
Before he get to his Bed: This rest is lost else.