Needle, Item.

    Nee. Troth, Mr. Item, here's a House divided,
And quarter'd into parts, by your Doctors Engine.
H'Has cast out such aspersions on my Ladies
Niece here, of having had a Child; as hardly
will be wip'd off, I doubt.

    Ite. Why, is't not true?

    Nee. True! did you think it?

    Ite. Was she not in labour?
The Mid-wife sent for?

    Ite. There's your error now!
Yo' ha' drunk of the same Water.

    Ite. I believ'd it,
And gave it out too.

    Nee. More you wrong'd the Party;
She had no such thing about her, innocent Creature!

    Jem. What had she then? only a fit o' the Mother!
They burnt old Shooes, Goose-feathers, Assa faetida,
A few Horn-shavings, about the House.

    Ite. Is't possible?

    Nee. See it, and then report it.

    Ite. Our Doctors Urinal-judgement is half crack'd then.

    Nee. Crack't i'the case, most hugely, with my Lady,
And sad Sir Moath, her Brother; who is now
Under a Cloud a little.

    Ite. Of what? Disgrace?

    Nee. He is commited to Rud-hudibras,
The Captain Ironside, upon displeasure,
From Mr. Compass, but it will blow off.

    Ite. The Doctor shall reverse his instantly,
And set all right again: if you'll assist
But in a toy, Squire Needle, comes i' my Noddle now.

    Nee. Good, Needle and Noddle! what may't be?
I long for't.

    Ite. Why, but to go to Bed: fain a distemper
Of walking i' your sleep, or talking in't
A little idly, but so much, as on it
The Doctor may have ground to raise a cure
For's Reputation.

    Nee. Any thing, to serve
The worship o' the Man I love and honour.