Classic Poem

Meanwell with a letter in his hand, Hearsay, Slicer .

Mea. Sweet Sir I am most passionately yours,
To serve you all the waies I can. Priscilla.
Very well Penn'd of a young Chambermaid;
I do conceive your meaning sweet Priscilla:
You see I have the happy fortune on't;
A night for nothing, and intreated too.
Slic. Thou dost not know how I do love thee; let me
Make use of this, thou'lt have the like occasion.
Hea. Thou art the fawningst fellow Slicer — — Meanwel Heark here.
Mean. For Gods sake be contented Sirs:
I'm flesh and bloud as well as you. Lieutenant,
Think on your Suburb Beauties; sweet Intelligencer,
I will by no means bar you of your Lady.
Your sin I assure you will be honourable.
Slic. Pox o' your liquorous lips; if that she don't
After this sealing forty weeks deliver
Something unto thee as thy act and deed,
Say I can't Prophesie.
Hear. If I don't serve him
A trick he thinks not of — —
Slic. Did'st mark how he
Did apply himself to the Knight all dinner?
I am afraid he plaies the cunning Factor,
And in anothers name woes for himself.
Hear. Let it go on; let it work something farther.
'Tis almost ripe enough to crush; he hath not
Crept high enough as yet to be sensible
Of any fall.
Slic. Now is the time or never.
This night you know he and his Doxie meet;
Let me alone to give them their goodmorrow.
If that we carry things but one week longer
Without discovery, farewell London then;
The world's our own. He ne'r deserves to thrive
That doth not venture for it. Wealth's then sweet
When bought with hazzard. Fate this Law hath set;
The foole inherits, but the wise must get.