THE PURITAINE WIDDOW

THE
ACTORS
NAME
In the Play Intitled
The Puritan Widow.

The Scene London.

Lady Plus, a Citizens Widow.
Frances,
Moll, her two Daughters.
Sir Godfrey, Brother-in-Law to the Widow Plus.
Master Edmond, Son to the Widow Plus.
George Pye-boord, a Scholar and a Citizen.
Peter Skirmish, an old Soldier.
Captain Idle, a Highway-man.
Corporal Oath, a vain-glorious Fellow.
Nichols St. Antlings,
Simon St. Mary Overies,
Frailty, Serving-men to the Lady Plus.
Sir Oliver Muck-hill, a Suitor to the Lady Plus.
Sir John Penny-Dub, a Suitor to Moll.
Sir Andrew Tipstaff, a Suitor to Frances.
The Sheriff of London.
Puttock,
Ravenshaw, Two of the Sheriffs Sergeants.
Dogson, a Yeoman.
A Noble-man.
A Gentleman Citizen.
Officers.


ACTUS PRIMUS.

Scene I.  A Garden behind the widow's house.

[Enter the Lady Widdow-Plus, her two daughters Frank and Moll,
her husband's Brother an old Knight Sir Godfrey, with her Son
and heir Master Edmond, all in mourning apparel, Edmond in a
Cyrpess Hat.  The Widdow wringing her hands, and bursting out
Into passion, as newly come from the Burial of her husband.


WIDOW.
Oh, that ever I was borne, that ever I was borne!

SIR GODFREY.
Nay, good Sister, dear sister, sweet sister, be of good
comfort; show your self a woman, now or never.

WIDOW.
Oh, I have lost the dearest man, I have buried the sweetest
husband that ever lay by woman.

SIR GODFREY.
Nay, give him his due, he was indeed an honest, virtuous,
Discreet, wise man,--he was my Brother, as right as right.

WIDOW.
O, I shall never forget him, never forget him; he was a man
so well given to a woman--oh!

SIR GODFREY.
Nay, but, kind Sister, I could weep as much as any woman,
but, alas, our tears cannot call him again:  me thinks you
are well read, Sister, and know that death is as common as
Homo, a common name to all men:--a man shall be taken when
he's making water.--Nay, did not the learned Parson, Master
Pigman, tell us e'en now, that all Flesh is frail, we are
borne to die, Man ha's but a time:  with such like deep and
profound persuasions, as he is a rare fellow, you know, and
an excellent Reader:  and for example, (as there are
examples aboundance,) did not Sir Humfrey Bubble die tother
day?  There's a lusty Widdow; why, she cried not above half
an hour--for shame, for shame! Then followed him old Master
Fulsome, the Usurer:  there's a wise Widdow; why, she cried
ne'er a whit at all.

WIDOW.
O, rank not me with those wicked women:  I had a husband
Out-shined 'em all.

SIR GODFREY.
Aye, that he did, yfaith:  he out-shined 'em all.

WIDOW.
Doost thou stand there and see us all weep, and not once
shed a tear for thy father's death? oh, thou ungratious son
and heir, thou!

EDMOND.
Troth, Mother, I should not weep, I'm sure; I am past a
child, I hope, to make all my old School fellows laugh at
me; I should be mocked, so I should.  Pray, let one of my
Sisters weep for me.  I'll laugh as much for her another
time.

WIDOW.
Oh, thou past-Grace, thou! out of my sight, thou graceless
imp, thou grievest me more than the death of thy Father! oh,
thou stubborn only son! hadst thou such an honest man to thy
Father--that would deceive all the world to get riches for
thee--and canst thou not afford a little salt water? he that
so wisely did quite over-throw the right heir of those lands,
which now you respect not:  up every morning betwixt four
and five; so duly at Westminster Hall every Term-Time, with
all his Cards and writings, for thee, thou wicked Absolon--
oh, dear husband!

EDMOND.
Weep, quotha?  I protest I am glad he's Churched; for now
he's gone, I shall spend in quiet.

FRANCES.
Dear mother, pray cease; half your Tears suffice.
Tis time for you to take truce with your eyes;
Let me weep now.

WIDOW.
Oh, such a dear knight! such a sweet husband have I lost,
have I lost!--If Blessed be the coarse the rain rains upon,
he had it pouring down.

SIR GODFREY.
Sister, be of good cheer, we are all mortal our selves.  I
come upon you freshly.  I near speak without comfort, hear
me what I shall say:--my brother ha's left you wealthy,
y'are rich.

WIDOW.
Oh!

SIR GODFREY.
I say y'are rich:  you are also fair.

WIDOW.
Oh!

SIR GODFREY.
Go to, y'are fair, you cannot smother it; beauty will come
to light; nor are your years so far enter'd with you, but
that you will be sought after, and may very well answer
another husband; the world is full of fine Gallants, choice
enow, Sister,--for what should we do with  all our Knights,
I pray, but to marry rich widows, wealthy Citizens' widows,
lusty fair-browed Ladies? go to, be of good comfort, I say:
leave snobbing and weeping--Yet my Brother was a kind hearted
man--I would not have the Elf see me now!--Come, pluck up a
woman's heart--here stands your Daughters, who be well
estated, and at maturity will also be enquir'd after with
good husbands, so all these tears shall be soon dried up and
a better world than ever--What, Woman? you must not weep
still; he's dead, he's buried--yet I cannot choose but weep
for him!

WIDOW.
Marry again! no! let me be buried quick then!
And that same part of Quire whereon I tread
To such intent, O may it be my grave;
And that the priest may turn his wedding prayers,
E'en with a breath, to funeral dust and ashes!
Oh, out of a million of millions, I should ne'er find such
a husband; he was unmatchable,--unmatchable! nothing was
too hot, nor too dear for me, I could not speak of that
one thing, that I had not:  beside I had keys of all, kept
all, receiv'd all, had money in my purse, spent what I would,
came home when I would, and did all what I would.  Oh, my
sweet husband!  I shall never have the like.

SIR GODFREY.
Sister, ne'er say so; he was an honest brother of mine, and
so, and you may light upon one as honest again, or one as
honest again may light upon you:  that's the properer
phrase, indeed.

WIDOW.
Never! Oh, if you love me, urge it not.

[Kneels.]

Oh may I be the by-word of the world,
The common talk at Table in the mouth
Of every Groom and Waiter, if e'er more
I entertain the carnal suite of Man!

MOLL.
I must kneel down for fashion too.

FRANCES.
And I, whom never man as yet hath scald,
E'ev in this depth of general sorrow, vow
Never to marry, to sustain such loss
As a dear husband seems to be, once dead.

MOLL.
I lov'd my father well, too; but to say,
Nay, vow, I would not marry for his death--
Sure, I should speak false Latin, should I not?
I'd as soon vow never to come in Bed.
Tut!  Women must live by th' quick, and not by th' dead.

WIDOW.
Dar Copy of my husband, oh let me kiss thee.
How like is this Model! This brief Picture

[Drawing out her husband's Picture.]

Quickens my tears:  my sorrows are renew'd
At this fresh sight.

SIR GODFREY.
Sister--

WIDOW.
Away,
All honesty with him is turn'd to clay.
Oh my sweet husband, oh--

FRANCES.
My dear father!

[Exeunt mother and Frances.]

MOLL.
Here's a pulling, indeed!  I think my Mother weeps for all
the women that ever buried husbands; for if from time to
time all the Widowers' tears in England had been bottled
up, I do not think all would have filled a three-half-penny
Bottle.  Alas, a small matter bucks a hand-kercher,--and
sometimes the spittle stands to nie Saint Thomas a Watrings.
Well, I can mourn in good sober sort as well as another;
but where I spend one tear for a dead Father, I could give
twenty kisses for a quick husband.

[Exit Moll.]

SIR GODFREY.
Well, go thy ways, old Sir Godfrey, and thou mayest be
proud on't, thou hast a kind loving sister-in-law; how
constant! how passionate! how full of April the poor soul's
eyes are!  Well, I would my Brother knew on't, he would
then know what a kind wife he had left behind him:  truth,
and twere not for shame that the Neighbours at th' next
garden should hear me, between joy and grief I should e'en
cry out-right!

[Exit Sir Godfrey.]

EDMOND.
So, a fair riddance!  My father's laid in dust; his Coffin
and he is like a whole-meat-pye, and the worms will cut
him up shortly.  Farewell, old Dad, farewell.  I'll be
curb'd in no more.  I perceived a son and heir may quickly
be made a fool, and he will be one, but I'll take another
order.--Now she would have me weep for him, for-sooth, and
why? because he cozn'd the right heir, being a fool, and
bestow'd those Lands upon me his eldest Son; and therefore
I must weep for him, ha, ha.  Why, all the world knows, as
long as twas his pleasure to get me, twas his duty to get
for me:  I know the law in that point; no Attorney can
gull me.  Well, my Uncle is an old Ass, and an Admirable
Cockscomb.  I'll rule the Roast my self.  I'll be kept
under no more; I know what I may do well enough by my
Father's Copy:  the Law's in mine own hands now:  nay, now
I know my strength, I'll be strong enough for my Mother,
I warrant you.

[Exit.]


SCENE II.  A street.

[Enter George Pye-board, a scholar and a Citizen, and unto
him an old soldier, Peter Skirmish.]

PYE.
What's to be done now, old Lad of War? thou that wert wont
to be as hot as a turn-spit, as nimble as a fencer, and as
lousy as a school-master; now thou art put to silence like
a Sectary.--War sits now like a Justice of peace, and does
nothing.  Where be your Muskets, Caleiuers and Hotshots? in
Long-lane, at Pawn, at Pawn.--Now keys are your only Guns,
Key-guns, Key-guns, and Bawds the Gunners, who are your
Sentinels in peace, and stand ready charg'd to give warning,
with hems, hums, and pockey-coffs; only your Chambers are
licenc'st to play upon you, and Drabs enow to give fire to 'em.

SKIRMISH.
Well, I cannot tell, but I am sure it goes wrong with me, for
since the cessure of the wars, I have spent above a hundred
crowns out a purse.  I have been a soldier any time this
forty years, and now I perceive an old soldier and an old
Courtier have both one destiny, and in the end turn both into
hob-nails.

PYE.
Pretty mystery for a begger, for indeed a hob-nail is the true
emblem of a begger's shoe-sole.

SKIRMISH.
I will not say but that war is a blood-sucker, and so; but,
in my conscience, (as there is no soldier but has a piece of
one, though it be full of holes like a shot Antient; no matter,
twill serve to swear by) in my conscience, I think some kind
of Peace has more hidden oppressions, and violent heady sins,
(though looking of a gentle nature) then a profest war.

PYE.
Troth, and for mine own part, I am a poor Gentleman, and a
Scholar:  I have been matriculated in the University, wore
out six Gowns there, seen some fools, and some Scholars, some
of the City, and some of the Country, kept order, went bare-
headed over the Quadrangle, eat my Commons with a good
stomach, and Battled with Discretion; at last, having done
many slights and tricks to maintain my wit in use (as my brain
would never endure me to be idle,) I was expeld the University,
only for stealing a Cheese out of Jesus College.

SKIRMISH.
Ist possible?

PYE.
Oh! there was one Welshman (God forgive him) pursued it hard;
and never left, till I turned my staff toward London, where
when I came, all my friends were pitt-hold, gone to Graves,
(as indeed there was but a few left before.)  Then was I turned
to my wits, to shift in the world, to tower among Sons and
Heirs, and Fools, and Gulls, and Lady's eldest Sons, to work
upon nothing, to feed out of Flint, and ever since has my
belly been much beholding to my brain.  But, now, to return
to you, old Skirmish:  I say as you say, and for my part wish
a Turbulency in the world, for I have nothing to lose but my
wits, and I think they are as mad as they will be:  and to
strengthen your Argument the more, I say an honest war is
better than a bawdy peace, as touching my profession.  The
multiplicity of Scholars, hatcht and nourisht in the idle
Calms of peace, makes 'em like Fishes one devour another; and
the community of Learning has so played upon affections, and
thereby almost Religion is come about to Phantasy, and
discredited by being too much spoken off-in so many and mean
mouths, I my self, being a Scholar and a Graduate, have no
other comfort by my learning, but the Affection of my words,
to know how Scholar-like to name what I want, and can call my
self a Begger both in Greek and Latin:  and therefore, not to
cog with Peace, I'll not be afraid to say, 'tis a great
Breeder, but a barren Nourisher:  a great getter of Children,
which mus either be Thieves or Rich-men, Knaves or Beggers.

SKIRMISH.
Well, would I had been born a Knave then, when I was born
a Begger; for if the truth were known, I think I was begot
when my Father had never a penny in his purse.

PYE.
Puh, faint not, old Skirmish; let this warrant thee, Facilis
Descensus Averni, 'tis an easy journey to a Knave; thou
mayest be a Knave when thou wilt; and Peace is a good Madam
to all other professions, and an arrant Drab to us, let us
handle her accordingly, and by our wits thrive in despite of
her; for since the law lives by quarrels, the Courtier by
smooth God-morrows; and every profession makes it self
greater by imperfections, why not we then by shifts, wiles,
and forgeries? and seeing our brains are our only Patrimonies,
let's spend with judgment, not like a desperate son and heir,
but like a sober and discreet Templar,--one that will never
march beyond the bounds of his allowance.  And for our
thriving means, thus:  I my self will put on the Deceit of a
Fortune-teller.

SKIRMISH.
A Fortune-teller?  Very proper.

PYE.
And you of a figure-caster, or a Conjurer.

SKIRMISH.
A Conjurer?

PYE.
Let me alone; I'll instruct you, and teach you to deceive all
eyes, but the Devil's.

SKIRMISH.
Oh aye, for I would not deceive him, and I could choose, of
all others.

PYE.
Fear not, I warrant you; and so by those means we shall help
one another to Patients, as the condition of the age affords
creatures enow for cunning to work upon.

SKIRMISH.
Oh wondrous! new fools and fresh Asses.

PYE.
Oh, fit, fit! excellent.

SKIRMISH.
What, in the name of Conjuring?

PYE.
My memory greets me happily with an admirable subject to
gaze upon:  The Lady-Widdow, who of late I saw weeping in
her Garden for the death of her Husband; sure she 'as but a
watrish soul, and half on't by this time is dropt out of her
Eyes:  device well managed may do good upon her:  it stands
firm, my first practise shall be there.

SKIRMISH.
You have my voice, George.

PYE.
Sh'as a gray Gull to her Brother, a fool to her only son,
and an Ape to her youngest Daughter.--I overheard 'em
severally, and from their words I'll derive my device; and
thou, old Peter Skirmish, shall be my second in all slights.

SKIRMISH.
Ne'er doubt me, George Pye-board,--only you must teach me
to conjure.

[Enter Captain Idle, pinioned, and with a guard of Officers
passeth over the Stage.]

PYE.
Puh, I'll perfect thee, Peter.--How now? what's he?

SKIRMISH.
Oh George! this sight kills me.  Tis my sworn Brother,
Captain Idle.

PYE.
Captain Idle!

SKIRMISH.
Apprehended for some felonious act or other.  He has started
out, h'as made a Night on't, lackt silver.  I cannot but
commend his resolution; he would not pawn his Buff-Jerkin.
I would either some of us were employed, or might pitch our
Tents at Usurers' doors, to kill the slaves as they peep out
at the Wicket.

PYE.
Indeed, those are our ancient Enemies; they keep our money
in their hands, and make us to be hangd for robbing of 'em.
But, come, let's follow after to the Prison, and know the
Nature of his offence; and what we can steed him in, he
shall be sure of; and I'll uphold it still, that a charitable
Knave is better then a soothing Puritain.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE III.  A Street.

[Enter at one door Corporal Oath, a Vain-glorious fellow;
and at the other, three of the Widdow Puritain's Servingmen,
Nicholas Saint-Tantlings, Simon Saint-Mary-Overaries, and
Frailty, in black scurvy mourning coats, and Books at their
Girdles, as coming from Church.  They meet.]


NICHOLAS.
What, Corporal Oath?  I am sorry we have met with you,
next our hearts; you are the man that we are forbidden to
keep company withall.  We must not swear I can tell you,
and you have the name for swearing.

SIMON.
Aye, Corporal Oath, I would you would do so much as forsake
us, sir; we cannot abide you, we must not be seen in your
company.

FRAILTY.
There is none of us, I can tell you, but shall be soundly
whipt for swearing.

CORPORAL.
Why, how now, we three?  Puritanical Scrape-shoes, Flesh
a good Fridays! a hand.

ALL.
Oh!

CORPORAL.
Why, Nicholas Saint-Tantlings, Simon Saint Mary Ovaries,
ha's the De'el possest you, that you swear no better? you
half-Christned Catomites, you ungod-mothered Varlets, do's
the first lesson teach you to be proud, and the second to
be Cocks-combs? proud Cocks-combs! not once to do duty to
a man of Mark!

FRAILTY.
A man of Mark, quatha!  I do not think he can shew a Begger's
Noble.

CORPORAL.
A Corporal, a Commander, one of spirit, that is able to blow
you up all dry with your Books at your Girdles.

SIMON.
We are not taught to believe that, sir, for we know the
breath of man is weak.

[Corporal breathes upon Frailty.]

FRAILTY.
Foh, you lie, Nicholas; for here's one strong enough.  Blow
us up, quatha:  he may well blow me above twelve-score off
an him.  I warrant, if the wind stood right, a man might
smell him from the top of Newgate, to the Leads of Ludgate.

CORPORAL.
Sirrah, thou Hollow-Book of Max-candle--

NICHOLAS.
Aye, you may say what you will, so you swear not.

CORPORAL.
I swear by the--

NICHOLAS.
Hold, hold, good Corporal Oath; for if you swear once, we
shall all fall down in a swoon presently.

CORPORAL.
I must and will swear: you quivering Cocks-combs, my Captain
is imprisoned, and by Vulcan's Leather Cod-piece point--

NICHOLAS.
O Simon, what an oath was there.

FRAILTY.
If he should chance to break it, the poor man's Breeches
would fall down about his heels, for Venus allows him but
one point to his hose.

CORPORAL.
With these my Bully-Feet I will thump ope the Prison doors,
and brain the Keeper with the begging Box, but I'll see my
honest sweet Captain Idle at liberty.

NICHOLAS.
How, Captain Idle? my old Aunt's son, my dear Kinsman, in
Capadochio?

CORPORAL.
Aye, thou Church-peeling, thou Holy-paring, religious outside,
thou! if thou hadst any grace in thee, thou would'st visit
him, relieve him, swear to get him out.

NICHOLAS.
Assure you, Corporal, indeed-lam tis the first time I heard
on't.

CORPORAL.
Why do't now, then, Marmaset:  bring forth thy yearly-wages,
let not a Commander perish!

SIMON.
But, if he be one of the wicked, he shall perish.

NICHOLAS.
Well, Corporal, I'll e'en them along with you, to visit my
Kinsman:  if I can do him any good, I will,--but I have
nothing for him.  Simon Saint Mary Ovaries and Frailty, pray
make a lie for me to the Knight my Master, old Sir Godfrey.

CORPORAL.
A lie? may you lie then?

FRAILTY.
O, aye, we may lie, but we must not swear.

SIMON.
True, we may lie with our Neighbor's wife, but we must not
swear wedid so.

CORPORAL.
Oh, an excellent Tag of religion!

NICHOLAS.
Oh Simon, I have thought upon a sound excuse; it will go
currant:  say that I am gone to a Fast.

SIMON.
To a Fast? very good.

NICHOLAS.
Aye, to a Fast, say, with Master Fullbelly the Minister.

SIMON.
Master Fullbelly? an honest man:  he feeds the flock well,
for he's an excellent feeder.

[Exit Corporal, Nicholas.]

FRAILTY.
Oh, aye, I have seen him eat up a whole Pig, and afterward
fall to the pittitoes.

[Exit Simon and Frailty.]


SCENE IV.


The Prison, Marshalsea.

[Enter Captain Idle at one door, and later Pye-board and old
soldier at the other.  George Pye-board, speaking within.]


PYE.
Pray turn the key.

SKIRMISH.
Turn the key, I pray.

CAPTAIN.
Who should those be?  I almost know their voices.--
O my friends!

[Entering.]

Ya're welcome to a smelling Room here.  You newly took leave
of the air; ist not a strange savour?

PYE.
As all prisons have:  smells of sundry wretches,
Who, tho departed, leave their scents behind 'em.
By Gold, Captain, I am sincerely sorry for thee.

CAPTAIN.
By my troth, George, I thank thee; but pish,--what must be,
must be.

SKIRMISH.
Captain, what do you lie in for? ist great? what's your
offence?

CAPTAIN.
Faith, my offence is ordinary,--common:  A High-way; and I
fear me my penalty will be ordinary and common too: a halter.

PYE.
Nay, prophecy not so ill; it shall go heard,
But I'll shift for thy life.

CAPTAIN.
Whether I live or die, thou'art an honest George.  I'll tell
you--silver flowed not with me, as it had done, (for now the
tide runs to Bawds and flatterers.)  I had a start out, and
by chance set upon a fat steward, thinking his purse had been
as pursey as his body; and the slave had about him but the
poor purchase of ten groats:  notwithstanding, being descried,
pursued, and taken, I know the Law is so grim, in respect of
many desperate, unsettled soldiers, that I fear me I shall
dance after their pipe for't.

SKIRMISH.
I am twice sorry for you, Captain:  first that your purchase
was so small, and now that your danger is so great.

CAPTAIN.
Push, the worst is but death,--ha you a pipe of Tobacco
about you?

SKIRMISH.
I think I have there abouts about me.

[Captain blows a pipe.]

CAPTAIN.
Here's a clean Gentleman, too, to receive.

PYE.
Well, I must cast about some happy slight.
Work brain, that ever didst thy Master right!

CAPTAIN.
Keeper! let the key be turn'd!

[Corporal and Nicholas within.]

NICHOLAS.
Aye, I pray, Master keeper, give's a cast of your office.

CAPTAIN.
How now? more Visitants?--what, Corporal Oath?

PYE.
Corporal?

SKIRMISH.
Corporal?

CORPORAL.
In prison, honest Captain? this must not be.

NICHOLAS.
How do you, Captain Kinsman>

CAPTAIN.
Good Cocks-comb! what makes that pure, starch'd fool here?

NICHOLAS.
You see, Kinsman, I am somewhat bold to call in, and see how
you do.  I heard you were safe enough, and I was very glad
on't that it was no worse.

CAPTAIN.
This is a double torture now,--this fool by'th book
Do's vex me more than my imprisonment.
What meant you, Corporal, to hook him hither?

CORPORAL.
Who, he? he shall relieve thee, and supply thee;
I'll make him do 't.

CAPTAIN.
[Aside, to Oath.]  Fie, what vain breath you spend! he supply?
I'll sooner expect mercy from a Usurer when my bond's
Forfeited, sooner kindness from a Layer when my money's spent:
Nay, sooner charity from the devil, than good from a Puritan!
I'll look for relief from him, when Lucifer is restor'd to
his blood, and in Heaven again.

NICHOLAS.
I warrant, my Kinsman's talking of me, for my left ear burns
most tyrannically.

PYE.
Captain Idle, what's he there? he looks like a Monkey upward,
and a Crane down-ward.

CAPTAIN.
Pshaw, a foolish Cousin of mine; I must thank God for him.

PYE.
Why, the better subject to work a scape upon; thou shalt
o'en change clothes with him, and leave him here, and so--

CAPTAIN.
Push, I publish't him e'en now to my Corporal:  he will be
damned, ere he do me so much good; why, I know a more proper,
a more handsome device than that, if the slave would be
sociable.  Now, goodman Fleer-face.

NICHOLAS.
Oh, my Cousin begins to speak to me now:  I shall be
acquainted with him again, I hope.

SKIRMISH.
Look what ridiculous Raptures take hold of his wrinkles.

PYE.
Then, what say you to this device? a happy one, Captain?

CAPTAIN.
Speak low, George; Prison Rats have wider ears than those
in Malt-lofts.

NICHOLAS.
Cousin, if it lay in my power, as they say--to--do--

CAPTAIN.
Twould do me an exceeding pleasure, indeed, that, but ne'er
talk forder on't:  the fool will be hang'd, ere he do't.

[To the Corporal.]

CORPORAL.
Pax, I'll thump 'im to't.

PYE.
Why, do but try the Fopster, and break it to him bluntly.

CAPTAIN.
And so my disgrace will dwell in his Jaws, and the slave
slaver out our purpose to his Master, for would I were but
as sure on't as I am sure he will deny to do't.

NICHOLAS.
I would be heartily glad, Cousin, if any of my friendships,
as they say, might--stand--ah--

PYE.
Why, you see he offers his friendship foolishly to you
already.

CAPTAIN.
Aye, that's the hell on't, I would he would offer it wisely.

NICHOLAS.
Verily, and indeed la, Cousin--

CAPTAIN.
I have took note of thy fleers a good while:  if thou art
minded to do me good--as thou gapst upon me comfortably,
and giv'st me charitable faces, which indeed is but a
fashion in you all that are Puritains--wilt soon at night
steal me thy Master's chain?

NICHOLAS.
Oh, I shall swoon!

PYE.
Corporal, he starts already.

CAPTAIN.
I know it to be worth three hundred Crowns, and with the
half of that I can buy my life at a Brokers, at second hand,
which now lies in pawn to th' Law:  if this thou refuse to
do, being easy and nothing dangerous, in that thou art held
in good opinion of thy Master, why tis a palpable Argument
thou holdst my life at no price, and these thy broken and
unioynted offers are but only created in thy lip, now borne,
and now buried, foolish breath only.  What, woult do't? shall
I look for happiness in thy answer?

NICHOLAS.
Steal my Master's chain, qu'the? no, it shall ne'er be said,
that Nicholas Saint Tantlings committed Bird-lime!

CAPTAIN.
Nay, I told you as much; did I not? tho he be a Puritain, yet
he will be a true man.

NICHOLAS.
Why, Cousin, you know tis written, thou shalt not steal.

CAPTAIN.
Why, and fool, thou shalt love thy Neighbour, and help him in
extremities.

NICHOLAS.
Mass, I think it be, indeed:  in what Chapter's that, Cousin?

CAPTAIN.
Why, in the first of Charity, the 2. Verse.

NICHOLAS.
The first of Charity, quatha! that's a good jest; there's no
such Chapter in my book!

CAPTAIN.
No, I knew twas torn out of thy Book, and that makes so little
in thy heart.

PYE.
Come, let me tell you, ya're too unkind a Kinsman, yfaith;
the Captain loving you so dearly, aye, like the Pomwater of
his eye, and you to be so uncomfortable:  fie, fie.

NICHOLAS.
Pray, do not wish me to be hangd:  any thing else that I can
do, had it been to rob, I would ha don't; but I must not
steal:  that's the word, the literal, thou shalt not steal;
and would you wish me to steal, then?

PYE.
No, faith, that were too much, to speak truth:  why, woult
thou nim it from him?

NICHOLAS.
That I will!

PYE.
Why, ynough, bully; he shall be content with that, or he
shall ha none; let me alone with him now!  Captain, I ha
dealt with your Kins-man in a Corner; a good, kind-natured
fellow, me thinks:  go to, you shall not have all your own
asking, you shall bate somewhat on't: he is not contented
absolutely, as you would say, to steal the chain from him,--
but to do you a pleasure, he will nim it from him.

NICHOLAS.
Aye, that I will, Cousin.

CAPTAIN.
Well, seeing he will do no more, as far as I see, I must be
contented with that.

CORPORAL.
Here's no notable gullery!

PYE.
Nay, I'll come nearer to you, Gentleman:  because we'll have
only but a help and a mirth on't, the knight shall not lose
his chain neither, but it shall be only laid out of the way
some one or two days.

NICHOLAS.
Aye, that would be good indeed, Kinsman.

PYE.
For I have a farder reach to profit us better by the missing
on't only, than if we had it out-right, as my discourse shall
make it known to you.--When thou hast the chain, do but
convey it out at back-door into the Garden, and there hang it
close in the Rosemary bank but for a small season; and by that
harmless device, I know how to wind Captain Idle out of prison:
the Knight thy Master shall get his pardon and release him,
and he satisfy thy Master with his own chain, and wondrous
thanks on both hands.

NICHOLAS.
That were rare indeed, la:  pray, let me know how.

PYE.
Nay, tis very necessary thou shouldst know, because thou
must be employed as an Actor.

NICHOLAS.
An Actor?  O no, that's a Player; and our Parson rails again
Players mightily, I can tell you, because they brought him
drunk up'oth Stage once,--as he will be horribly drunk.

CORPORAL.
Mass, I cannot blame him then, poor Church-spout.

PYE.
Why, as an Intermedler, then?

NICHOLAS.
Aye, that, that.

PYE.
Give me Audience, then: when the old Knight thy Master has
raged his fill for the loss of the chain, tell him thou hast
a Kinsman in prison, of such exquisite Art, that the devil
himself is French Lackey to him, and runs bare-headed by his
horse-belly (when he has one) whom he will cause with most
Irish Dexterity to fetch his chain, tho twere hid under a
mine of sea-coal, and ne'er make Spade or Pickaxe his
instruments: tell him but this, with farder instructions thou
shalt receive from me, and thou shoust thy self a Kinsman
indeed.

CORPORAL.
A dainty Bully.

SKIRMISH.
An honest Book-keeper.

CAPTAIN.
And my three times thrice honey Cousin.

NICHOLAS.
Nay, grace of God, I'll rob him on't suddenly, and hang it in
the Rosemary bank; but I bear that mind, Cousin, I would not
steal any thing, me thinks, for mine own Father.

SKIRMISH.
He bears a good mind in that, Captain!

PYE.
Why, well said; he begins to be an honest felow, faith.

CORPORAL.
In troth, he does.

NICHOLAS.
You see, Cousin, I am willing to do you any kindness, always
saving my self harmless.

[Exit Nicholas.]

CAPTAIN.
Why, I thank thee; fare thee well, I shall requite it.

CORPORAL.
Twill be good for thee, Captain, that thou has such an
egregious Ass to thy Cousin.

CAPTAIN.
Aye, is he not a fine fool, Corporal?  But, George, thou
talkst of Art and Conjuring; How shall that be?

PYE.
Puh, be't not in your care:
Leave that to me and my directions.
Well, Captain, doubt not thy delivery now,
E'en with the vantage, man, to gain by prison,
As my thoughts prompt me: hold on, brain and plot!
I aim at many cunning far events,
All which I doubt not but to hit at length.
I'll to the Widdow with a quaint assault.
Captain, be merry.

CAPTAIN.
Who, I?  Kerrie, merry, Buff-Jerkin.

PYE.
Oh, I am happy in more slights, and one will knit strong in
another.--Corporal Oath.

CORPORAL.
Hoh, Bully?

PYE.
And thou, old Peter Skirmish; I have a necessary task for you
Both.

SKIRMISH.
Lay't upon, George Pye-board.

CORPORAL.
What ere it be, we'll manage it.

PYE.
I would have you two maintain a quarrel before the Lady Widdow's
door, and draw your swords i'th edge of the Evening; clash a
little, clash, clash.

CORPORAL.
Fuh!
Let us alone to make our Blades ring noon,
Tho it be after Supper.

PYE.
I know you can.  And out of that false fire, I doubt not but to
raise strange belief--And, Captain, to countenance my device
the better, and grace my words to the Widdow, I have a good
plain Satin suit, that I had of a young Reveller t'other night:
for words pass not regarded now a days, unless they come from
a good suit of clothes, which the Fates and my wits have
bestowed upon me.  Well, Captain Idle, if I did not highly
love thee, I would ne'er be seen within twelve score of a
prison, for I protest at this instant, I walk in great danger
of small debts; I owe money to several Hostesses, and you know
such Jills will quickly be upon a man's Jack.

CAPTAIN.
True, George.

PYE.
Fare thee well, Captain.  Come, Corporal and Ancient! thou
Shalt hear more news next time we greet thee.

CORPORAL.
More news!  Aye, by yon Bear at Bridge-Foot in heaven shalt
thou.

[Exeunt Pye-board, Skirmish, and Oath.]

CAPTAIN.
Enough:  my friends, farewell.
This prison shows as if Ghosts did part in Hell.


ACT II.

SCENE I.  A room in the widow's house.

[Enter Moll youngest Daughter to the Widdow: alone.]

MOLL.
Not Marry? forswear Marriage? why, all women know 'tis as
honorable a thing as to lie with a man; and I to spite my
Sisters vow the more, have entertained a suitor already,
a fine gallant Knight of the last Feather:  he says he will
Coach me too, and well appoint me, allow me money to Dice
with-all, and many such pleasing protestations he sticks
upon my lips; indeed, his short-winded Father ith' Country
is wondrous wealthy, a most abominable Farmer, and therefore
he may doote in time:  troth, I'll venture upon him.  Women
are not without ways enow to help them-selves:  if he prove
wise and good as his word, why, I shall love him, and use
him kindly:  and if he prove an Ass, why, in a quarter of
an hour's warning I can transform him into an Ox;--there
comes in my Relief again.

[Enter Frailty.]

FRAILTY.
O, Mistress Moll, Mistress Moll.

MOLL.
How now? what's the news?

FRAILTY.
The Knight your suitor, sir John Penny-Dub--

MOLL.
Sir John Penny-Dub? where? where?

FRAILTY.
He's walking in the Gallery.

MOLL.
Has my Mother seen him yet?

FRAILTY.
O no, she's--spitting in the Kitchen.

MOLL.
Direct him hither softly, good Frailty,--
I'll meet him half way.

FRAILTY.
That's just like running a Tilt; but I hope he'll break
nothing this time.

[Exit.]

[Enter Sir John Penny-Dub.]

MOLL.
'Tis happiness my Mother saw him not:
O welcome, good Sir John.

PENNY-DUB.
I thank you, faith.--Nay, you must stand me, till I kiss
you:  'tis the fashion every where, I-faith, and I came
from Court enow.

MOLL.
Nay, the Fates forfend that I should anger the fashion!

PENNY-DUB.
Then, not forgetting the sweet of new ceremonies, I first
fall back, then recovering my self, make my honour to your
lip thus:  and then accost it.

MOLL.
Trust me, very pretty, and moving; y'are worthy on't, sir.

[Kissing:  Enter Widdow and Sir Godfrey.]

O, my Mother, my Mother! now she's here, we'll steal into
the Gallery.

[Exeunt.]

SIR GODFREY.
Nay, Sister, let Reason rule you, do not play the fool;
stand not in your own light.  You have wealthy offers, large
tendrings; do not with-stand your good fortune:  who comes a
wooing to you, I pray? no small fool; a rich Knight ath City,
Sir Oliver Muck-Hill--no small fool I can tell you:  and
Furthermore, as I heard late by your Maid-servants, (as your
Maid-servants will say to me any thing, I thank 'em) both your
Daughters are not without Suitors, aye, and worthy ones too!
one a Brisk Courtier, Sir Andrew Tip-Staff, suitor a far off
to your eldest Daughter, and the third a huge-wealthy Farmer's
son, a fine young Country Knight, they call him Sir John
Penny-Dub:  a good name, marry; he may have it coined when
he lacks money.  What blessings are these, Sister!

WIDDOW.
Tempt me not, Satan.

SIR GODFREY.
Satan? do I look like Satan?  I hope the Devil's not so old
as I, I tro.

WIDDOW.
You wound my senses, Brother, when you name
A suitor to me:--oh, I cannot abide it,
I take in poison, when I hear one nam'd.

[Enter Simon.]

How now, Simon? where's my son Edmund?

SIMON.
Verily Madame, he is at vain Exercise, dripping in the
Tennis-court.

WIDDOW.
At Tennis-court? oh, now his father's gone, I shall have no
rule with him; oh, wicked Edmond, I might well compare this
with the Prophecy in the Chronicle, tho far inferior:  as
Harry of Monmouth won all, and Harry of Windsor lost all;
so Edmund of Bristow, that was the Father, got all, and
Edmond of London, that's his son now, will spend all.

SIR GODFREY.
Peace, Sister, we'll have him reformed, there's hope on him
yet, tho it be but a little.

[Enter Frailty.]

FRAILTY.
Forsooth, Madam, there are two or three Archers at door
would very gladly speak with your Ladyship.

WIDDOW.
Archers?

SIR GODFREY.
Your husband's Fletcher, I warrant.

WIDDOW.
Oh!
Let them come near, they bring home things of his.
Troth, I should ha forgot 'em.  How now, Villain?
Which be those Archers?

[Enter the suitors Sir Andrew Tip-staff, Sir Oliver Muck-hill,
and Penny-dub.]

FRAILTY.
Why, do you not see 'em before you? are not these Archers?
what do you call 'em?  Shooters:  Shooters and Archers are
all one, I hope.

WIDDOW.
Out, ignorant slave.

MUCK-HILL.
Nay, pray be patient, Lady,
We come in way of honorable love.

TIP-STAFF.
We do.

PENNY-DUB.
We do.

MUCK-HILL.
To you.

TIP-STAFF.
And to your Daughters.

PENNY-DUB.
And to your Daughters.

WIDDOW.
O, why will you offer me this Gentlemen? indeed I will not
look upon you--when the Tears are scarce out of mine Eyes,
not yet washt off from my Cheeks, and my deer husband's body
scarce so cold as the Coffin, what reason have you to offer
it?  I am not like some of your Widdows that will bury one
in the Evening, and be sure to another ere morning.  Pray,
away; pray, take your answers, good Knights, and you be sweet
Knights.  I have vow'd never to marry;--and so have my
daughters too!

PENNY-DUB.
Aye, two of you have, but the third's a good wench!

MUCK-HILL.
Lady, a shrewd answer, marry; the best is, tis but the first,
and he's a blunt wooer, that will leave for one sharp answer.

TIP-STAFF.
Where be your daughters, Lady?  I hope they'll give us better
encouragements.

WIDDOW.
Indeed, they'll answer you so; tak't a my word, they'll give
you the very same answer Verbatim, truly la.

PENNY-DUB.
Mum:  Moll's a good wench still, I know what she'll do.

MUCK-HILL.
Well, Lady, for this time we'll take our leaves, hoping for
better comfort.

WIDDOW.
O never, never! and I live these thousand years! and you be
good Knights, do not hope; twill be all Vain, Vain,--look
you, put off all your suits, and you come to me again.

[Exeunt Sir John and Sir Andrew.]

FRAILTY.
Put off all their suits, quatha?  Aye, that's the best
wooing of a Widdow, indeed, when a man's Nonsuited; that is,
when he's a bed with her.

[Going out, Muck-hill and Sir Godfrey.]

MUCK-HILL.
Sir Godfrey, here's twenty Angels more: work hard for me;
there's life int yet.

[Exit Muck-hill.]

SIR GODFREY.
Fear not, Sir Oliver Muck-hill, I'll stick close for you;
leave all with me.

[Enter George Pye-board, the scholar.]

PYE.
By your leave, Lady Widdow.

WIDDOW.
What, another suitor now?

PYE.
A suitor! no, I protest, Lady, if you'd give me your self,
I'd not be troubled with you.

WIDDOW.
Say you so, Sir? then you're the better welcome, sir.

PYE.
Nay, Heaven bless me from a Widdow, unless I were sure to
bury her speedily!

WIDDOW.
Good bluntness:  well, your business, sir?

PYE.
Very needful; if you were in private once.

WIDDOW.
Needful? brother, pray leave us; and you, sir.

FRAILTY.
I should laugh now, if this blunt fellow should put 'em all
by side the stirrup, and vault into the saddle himself.  I
have seen as mad a trick.

[Exit Frailty.]

[Enter Daughters.]

WIDDOW.
Now Sir?--here's none but we--Daughters, forbear.

PYE.
O no, pray, let 'em stay, for what I have to speak importeth
equally to them as to you.

WIDDOW.
Then you may stay.

PYE.
I pray bestow on me a serious ear,
For what I speak is full of weight and fear.

WIDDOW.
Fear?

PYE.
Aye, ift pass unregarded, and uneffected; Else peace and
joy:--I pray, Attention.  Widdow, I have been a mere
stranger for these parts that you live in, nor did I ever
know the Husband of you, and Father of them, but I truly
know by certain spiritual Intelligence, that he is in
Purgatory.

WIDDOW.
Purgatory? tuh; that word deserves to be spit upon.  I
wonder that a man of sober tongue, as you seem to be, should
have the folly to believe there's such a place.

PYE.
Well, Lady, in cold blood I speak it; I assure you that
there is a Purgatory, in which place I know your husband to
reside, and wherein he is like to remain, till the dissolution
of the world, till the last general Bon-fire, when all the
earth shall melt into nothing and the Seas scald their finny
labourers; so long is his abidance, unless you alter the
property of your purpose, together with each of your Daughters
theirs; that is, the purpose of single life in your self and
your eldest Daughter, and the speedy determination of marriage
in your youngest.

MOLL.
How knows he that? what, has some Devil told him?

WIDDOW.
Strange he should know our thoughts:--Why, but, Daughter, have
you purposed speedy Marriage?

PYE.
You see she tells you aye, for she says nothing.  Nay, give me
credit as you please.  I am a stranger to you, and yet you see I
know your determinations, which must come to me Metaphysically,
and by a super-natural intelligence.

WIDDOW.
This puts Amazement on me.

FRANCES.
Know our secrets!

MOLL.
I'd thought to steal a marriage: would his tongue
Had dropt out when be blabbed it!

WIDDOW.
But, sir, my husband was too honest a dealing man to be now
in any purgatories--

PYE.
O, Do not load your conscience with untruths;
Tis but mere folly now to gild him o'er,
That has past but for Copper.  Praises here
Cannot unbind him there:  confess but truth.
I know he got his wealth with a hard grip:
Oh hardly, hardly.

WIDDOW.
This is most strange of all:  how knows he that?

PYE.
He would eat fools and ignorant heirs clean up;
And had his drink from many a poor man's brow,
E'en as their labour brewed it.
He would scrape riches to him most unjustly;
The very dirt between his nails was Ill-got,
And not his own,--oh, I groan to speak on't,
The thought makes me shudder--shudder!

WIDDOW.
It quakes me too, now I think on't.--Sir, I am much grieved,
that you, a stranger, should so deeply wrong my dead husband!

PYE.
Oh!

WIDDOW.
A man that would keep Church so duly; rise early, before his
servants, and e'en for Religious hast, go ungartered,
unbuttoned, nay, sir Reverence, untrust, to Morning Prayer.

PYE.
Oh, uff.

WIDDOW.
Dine quickly upon high-days, and when I had great guests,
would e'en shame me and rise from the Table, to get a good
seat at an after-noon Sermon.

PYE.
There's the devil, there's the devil! true, he thought it
Sactity enough, if he had killed a man, so tad been done in
a Pew, or undone his Neighbour, so ta'd been near enough to
th' Preacher.  Oh,--a Sermon's a fine short cloak of an hour
long, and will hide the upper-part of a dissembler.--Church!
Aye, he seemed all Church, and his conscience was as hard as
the Pulpit!

WIDDOW.
I can no more endure this.

PYE.
Nor I, widdow, endure to flatter.

WIDDOW.
Is this all your business with me?

PYE.
No, Lady, tis but the induction too'te.  You may believe my
strains, I strike all true, And if your conscience would leap
up to your tongue, your self would affirm it:  and that you
shall perceive I know of things to come as well as I do of
what is present, a Brother of your husband's shall shortly
have a loss.

WIDDOW.
A loss; marry, heaven for-fend!  Sir Godfrey, my brother?

PYE.
Nay, keep in your wonders, will I have told you the fortunes
of you all; which are more fearful, if not happily prevented:
--for your part and your daughters, if there be not once this
day some blood-shed before your door, whereof the human
creature dies, two of you--the elder--shall run mad.

MOTHER AND FRANCES.
Oh!

MOLL.
That's not I yet!

PYE.
And with most impudent prostitution show your naked bodies
to the view of all beholders.

WIDDOW.
Our naked bodies? fie, for shame!

PYE.
Attend me: and your younger daughter be strocken dumb.

MOLL.
Dumb? out, alas:  tis the worst pain of all for a Woman.  I'd
rather be mad, or run naked, or any thing:  dumb?

PYE.
Give ear:  ere the evening fall upon Hill, Bog, and Meadow,
this my speech shall have past probation, and then shall I be
believed accordingly.

WIDDOW.
If this be true, we are all shamed, all undone.

MOLL.
Dumb?  I'll speak as much as ever I can possible before
evening!

PYE.
But if it so come to pass (as for your fair sakes I wish it
may) that this presage of your strange fortunes be prevented
by that accident of death and blood-shedding which I before
told you of:  take heed upon your lives that two of you, which
have vow'd never to marry, seek you out husbands with all
present speed, and you, the third, that have such a desire to
out-strip chastity, look you meddle not with a husband.

MOLL.
A double torment.

PYE.
The breach of this keeps your father in Purgatory, and the
punishments that shall follow you in this world would with
horror kill the Ear should hear 'em related.

WIDDOW.
Marry? why I vowed never to marry.

FRANCES.
And so did I.

MOLL.
And I vowed never to be such an Ass, but to marry:  what a
cross Fortune's this!

PYE.
Ladies, tho I be a Fortune-teller, I cannot better Fortunes;
you have 'em from me as they are revealed to me: I would they
were to your tempers, and fellows with your bloods, that's
all the bitterness I would you.

WIDDOW.
Oh, 'tis a just vengeance for my husband's hard purchases.

PYE.
I wish you to be-think your selves, and leave 'em.

WIDDOW.
I'll to Sir Godfrey, my Brother, and acquaint him with these
fearful presages.

FRANCES.
For, Mother, they portend losses to him.

WIDDOW.
Oh, aye, they do, they do.
If any happy issue crown thy words,
I will reward thy cunning.

PYE.
'Tis enough Lady; I wish no higher.

[Exit Widdow and Frances.]

MOLL.
Dumb! and not marry, worse!
Neither to speak, nor kiss, a double curse.

[Exit.]

PYE.
So all this comes well about yet.  I play the Fortune-teller
as well as if I had had a Witch to my Grannam:  for by good
happiness, being in my Hostesses' Garden, which neighbours
the Orchard o the Widdow, I laid the hole of mine ear to a
hole in the wall, and heard 'em make these vows, and speak
those words upon which I wrought these advantages; and to
encourage my forgery the more, I may now perceive in 'em a
natural simplicity which will easily swallow an abuse, if
any covering be over it:  and to confirm my former presage
to the Widdow, I have advised old Peter Skirmish, the Soldier,
to hurt Corporal Oath upon the Leg; and in that hurry I'll
rush amongst 'em, and in stead of giving the Corporal some
Cordial to comfort him, I'll power into his mouth a potion
of a sleepy Nature, to make him seem as dead; for the which
the old soldier being apprehended, and ready to be born to
execution, I'll step in, and take upon me the cure of the
dead man, upon pain of dying the condemned's death:  the
Corporal will wake at his minute, when the sleepy force has
wrought it self, and so shall I get my self into a most
admired opinion, and under the pretext of that cunning,
beguile as I see occasion:  and if that foolish Nicholas
Saint Tantlings keep true time with the chain, my plot will
be sound, the Captain delivered, and my wits applauded among
scholars and soldiers for ever.

[Exit Pye-board.]


SCENE II.  A Garden.

[Enter Nicholas Saint Tantlings with the chain.]

NICHOLAS.
Oh, I have found an excellent advantage to take away the
chain:  my Master put it off e'en now to say on a new
Doublet, and I sneak't it away by little and little most
Puritanically.  We shall have good sport anon when ha's
missed it about my Cousin the Conjurer.  The world shall
see I'm an honest man of my word, for now I'm going to hang
it between Heaven and Earth among the Rosemary branches.

[Exit Nicholas.]


ACTUS 3.


SCENE I.  The street before the Widow's house.

[Enter Simon Saint Mary-Ovaries and Frailty.]


FRAILTY.
Sirrah Simon Saint Mary-Ovaries, my Mistress sends away all
her suitors and puts fleas in their ears.

SIMON.
Frailty, she does like an honest, chaste, and virtuous woman;
for widdows ought not to wallow in the puddle of iniquity.

FRAILTY.
Yet, Simon, many widdows will do't, what so comes on't.

SIMON.
True, Frailty, their filthy flesh desires a Conjunction
Copulative.  What strangers are within, Frailty?

FRAILTY.
There's none, Simon, but Master Pilfer the Tailor:  he's
above with Sir Godfrey praising of a Doublet:  and I must
trudge anon to fetch Master Suds, the Barber.

SIMON.
Master Suds,--a good man; he washes the sins of the Beard
clean.

[Enter old Skirmish the soldier.]

SKIRMISH.
How now, creatures? what's a clock?

FRAILTY.
Why, do you take us to be Jack ath' Clock-house?

SKIRMISH.
I say again to you what's a clock.

SIMON.
Truly la, we go by the clock our conscience:  all worldly
Clocks, we know, go false, and are set by drunken Sextons.

SKIRMISH.
Then what's a clock in your conscience?--oh, I must break
off, here comes the corporal--hum, hum!--what's a clock?

[Enter Corporal.]

CORPORAL.
A clock? why, past seventeen.

FRAILTY.
Past seventeen? nay, ha's met with his match now, Corporal
Oath will fit him.

SKIRMISH.
Thou doost not bawk or baffle me, doost thou?  I am a
Soldier--past seventeen!

CORPORAL.
Aye, thou art not angry with the figures, art thou?  I will
prove it unto thee:  12. and 1. is thirteen, I hope, 2.
fourteen, 3. fifteen, 4. sixteen, and 5. Seventeen; then past
seventeen:  I will take the Dials part in a just cause.

SKIRMISH.
I say 'tis but past five, then.

CORPORAL.
I'll swear 'tis past seventeen, then:  doost thou not know
numbers? Canst thou not cast?

SKIRMISH.
Cast? dost thou speak of my casting ith' street?

CORPORAL.
Aye, and in the Market place.

SIMON.
Clubs, clubs, clubs!

[Simon runs in.]

FRAILTY.
Aye, I knew by their shuffling, Clubs would be Trump; mass,
here's the Knave, and he can do any good upon 'em:  Clubs,
clubs, clubs.

[Enter Pye-board.]

CORPORAL.
O villain, thou hast opened a vein in my leg.

PYE.
How no! for shame, for shame; put up, put up.

CORPORAL.
By yon blue Welkin, 'twas out of my part, George, to be hurt
on the leg.

[Enter Officers.]

PYE.
Oh peace now--I have a Cordial here to comfort thee.

OFFICER.
Down with 'em, down with em; lay hands upon the villain.

SKIRMISH.
Lay hands on me?

PYE.
I'll not be seen among em now.

[Exit Pye-board.]

CORPORAL.
I'm hurt, and had more need have Surgeons
Lay hands upon me then rough Officers.

OFFICER.
Go, carry him to be dressed then.

[Exeunt some of the Sheriff's Officers with Corporal Oath.]

This mutinous Soldier shall along with me to prison.

SKIRMISH.
To prison? where's George?

OFFICER.
Away with him.

[Exeunt with Skirmish.]

[Re-enter Pye-board.]

PYE.
So.
All lights as I would wish.  The amazed widdow
Will plant me strongly now in her belief,
And wonder at the virtue of my words:
For the event turns those presages from em
Of being mad and dumb, and begets joy
Mingled with admiration.  These empty creatures,
Soldier and Corporal, were but ordained
As instruments for me to work upon.
Now to my patient; here's his potion.

[Exit Pye-board.]


SCENE II.  An apartment in the Widow's house.]


[Enter the Widdow with her two Daughters.]

WIDDOW.
O wondrous happiness, beyond our thoughts:
O lucky fair event!  I think our fortunes,
Were blest e'en in our Cradles:  we are quitted
Of all those shameful violent presages
By this rash bleeding chance.  Go, Frailty, run, and know,
Whether he be yet living, or yet dead,
That here before my door received his hurt.