Proceeds to duel, and he kills his man. 
By such degrees, while knowledge he did want,
Our unfledged author writ a Wild Gallant. 
He thought him monstrous lewd, (I lay my life)
Because suspected with his landlord’s wife;
But, since his knowledge of the town began,
He thinks him now a very civil man;
And, much ashamed of what he was before,
Has fairly play’d him at three wenches more. 
’Tis some amends his frailties to confess;
Pray pardon him his want of wickedness: 
He’s towardly, and will come on apace;
His frank confession shows he has some grace. 
You baulked him when he was a young beginner,
And almost spoiled a very hopeful sinner;
But if once more you slight his weak endeavour,
For aught I know, he may turn tail forever;

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

Lord NONSUCH, an old rich humorous lord. 
Justice TRICE, his neighbour. 
Mr LOVEBY, the Wild Gallant. 
Sir TIMOROUS, a bashful knight. 
FAILER, } hangers-on of Sir TIMOROUS. 
BURR, }
BIBBER, a tailor. 
SETSTONE, a jeweller.

Lady CONSTANCE, Lord NONSUCH’S daughter,
Madam ISABELLA, her cousin. 
Mrs BIBBER, the tailors wife.

Serjeants, Boy to LOVEBY, Servants, a Bawd and Whores, Watch and Constable.

SCENE.—­London.

THE WILD GALLANT.

ACT I.

SCENE I.—­FAILER entering to BURR, who is putting on his buff-coat.

Fail.  What! not ready yet, man?

Burr.  You do not consider my voyage from Holland last night.

Fail.  Pish, a mere ferry; get up, get up:  My cousin’s maids will come and blanket thee anon; art thou not ashamed to lie a-bed so long?

Burr.  I may be more ashamed to rise; and so you’ll say, dear heart, if you look upon my clothes:  the best is, my buff-coat will cover all.

Fail.  Egad, there goes more cunning than one would think to the putting thy clothes together.  Thy doublet and breeches are Guelphs and Ghibellins to one another; and the stitches of thy doublet are so far asunder, that it seems to hang together by the teeth.  No man could ever guess to what part of the body these fragments did belong, unless he had been acquainted with ’em as long as thou hast been.  If they once lose their hold, they can never get together again, except by chance the rags hit the tallies of one another.  He, that gets into thy doublet, must not think to do it by storm; no, he must win it inch by inch, as the Turk did Rhodes.

Burr.  You are very merry with my wardrobe; but, till I am provided of a better, I am resolved to receive all visits in this truckle-bed.

Fail.  Then will I first scotch the wheels of it, that it may not run:  Thou hast cattle enough in it to carry it down stairs, and break thy neck; ’tis got a yard nearer the door already.