Pros.

Miranda, where's your Sister?

Mir.

I left on the Dust-Cart-top, gaping after the huge noyse that went by.—

Pros.

It was a dreadful show.

Mir.

Oh woe, and alass, ho, ho, ho! I'm glad I did not see it though.

Pros.

Hold in thy breath, and tell thy Vertuous Body, there's no harme down, th'are all reserv'd for thine, and thy Sister Dorindas private use.

Mir.

And shall we have 'em all, a-ha! that will be fine i'fads; but if you don't keep'em close, pray Father, we shall never have 'em long to our selves pray; for now ev'ry Gentlewoman runs huckstring to Market, the youth are bought up so fast, that poor Publicans are allmost starv'd, so they are so.

Pros.

Leave that to my Fatherly Care.

Mir.

And shall we have 'em all, ha, ha, he! O good dear hau, how the Citizens Wives will curse us.—

Pros.

Miranda, you must now leave this Tom-rigging, and learn to behave your self with a grandeur and state, befitting your illustrious Birth and Quality.—Thy Father, Miranda, was 50 years ago a man of great power, Duke of my Lord Mayors Dogg-kennel.—

Mir.

O lo, why Father, Father, are not I Miranda Whiffe, sooth, and arn't you Prospero Whiffe, sooth, Keeper of Bridewell, my Father?

Pros.

Thy Mother was all Mettle.—As true as Steel, as right's my Legg, and she said thou wert my Daughter; canst thou remember when thou wert Born, sure thou canst not, for then thou wert but three days old.

Mir.

I'fads, I do remember it Father, as well as 'twere but yesterday.

Pros.

Then scratch thy tenacious Poll, and tell me what thou findest backward in the misty black ^note and bottomless Pit of time.

Mir.

Pray Father had I not Four, or Five Women waiting upon top of me, at my Mothers groaning, pray?

Pros.

Thou hadst, and more Miranda, for then I had a Tub of humming stuff would make a Cat speak.

Mir.

O Gemine! Father how came we hither?

Pros.

While I despising mean, and worldly bus'ness, as mis-becoming my grave Place, Quality, did for the bett'ring of my mind, apply myself, to the secret and laudable study of Nine-pins, Shovel-board and Pigeon-holes—do'st thou give ear Infant?

Mir.

I do, most Prudent Sir.

Pros.

My Brother, to whom I left the manage of my weighty state, having learn'd the mysterious Craft of coupling Doggs, and of untying them; and by strict Observation of their jilting carriage, found the time when Venus, Countess, Lady, Beauty, and the rest of my she subjects, were to be oblig'd, by full allowance of their sports, soon grew too Popular, stole the hearts of my currish Vassals, and so became the Ivy-leaf, which cover'd my Princely Issue, and suck'd out all my Juice. Dost observe me Child?

Mir.

Yes, forsooth Father, this story would cure Kib'd-heels.

Pros.

This Miscreant, so dry he was for sway, betray'd me to Alonzo, Duke of Newgate; and in a stormy and dreadfull Night open'd my Kenell Gates, and forc'd me thence with thy young Sister, and thy howling self.

Mir.

Father! did they kill us then, pray Father?

Pros.

Near the Kenell they dar'd not for the love my dogged Subject bore me.—In short to Newgate we were carry'd, —And thence all in a Cart, without a cov'ring, or a Pad of Straw, to Hyde Park-corner, we were hurri'd there on the stubbed Carkase of a Leafeless Tree, they hoysted us aloft to pipe to winds, whose murm'ring pity whistling back again, did seem to show us cursed kindness.

Mir.

O poor Father!—But whereof, how did we 'scape Father?

Pros.

Some Friends we had, and some Money, which gaind the assistance, of a great man called Gregoria Dunn, appointed master of that black design: now luck begins to turn.—But ask no more; I see thou grow'st pinck-ey'd, go in, and let the Nurse lay thee to sleep.

Mir.

And shall she give me some Bread and Butter, Father.

Pros.

Ay, my Child,—Go in.—[Exit Miranda.] So she's fast.—Ariel, what ho my Ariel?

Ari.

Hayl most potent Master, I come to serve thy pleasure Be it to lye, swear, steal, pick pockets, or cerep in at Windows—

Pros.

How didst thou perform the last task I set the?

Ari.

I gather'd the Rabble together, show'd them the Bawdy House, told e'm they us'd to kill Prentices, and make mutton pyes

of 'em—I led them to the Windows, Doors, backward, forward, now to the sellar, now to the House top—Then I ran and call'd the Constable, who came just as the Rabble broke in, and the defendants were leaping from the Balcony, like Saylers from a sinking Ship. The Duke and his Trayn I clap'd into a Coach.

Pros.

Are they all taken and safe?

Ari.

All safe in several parts of this thy enchanted Castle of Bridewel, and not a hair of 'em lost.

Pros.

Twas bravely done my Ariel! Whats a Clock?

Ari.
Great Tom already has struck ten:
Now blest are Women that have men,
To tell fine tale, and warm cold feet,
While lonely lass lyes gnawing sheet.

Pros.

We have much to do e're morning come: follow me, I'le instruct thee within.