THE Puritan Or THE widow of Watlingstreet.  
Acted by the Children of Paul's.  
Written by W. S.  
Imprinted at London by G. ELD. 1607.   

The Puritan Widow.  

ACTVS PRIMVS.  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 morning apparel, Edmond in a Cypress Hat. The Widow wringing her hands, and bursting out into a 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 yourself a woman, now or never.  Wid. 
Oh, I have lost the dearest man. I have buried the sweetest husband that ever lay by woman.  Sir God. 
Nay give him his due he was indeed an honest, virtuous, discreet wiseman,— he was my Brother, as right, as right.  Wid. 
O, I shall never forget him, never forget him, he was a man so well given to a woman— oh:  Sir Godf. 
Nay but kind Sister, I could weep as much as any woman, but alas our tears cannot call him again: methinks 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 has 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 abundance,) did not Sir Humphrey Bubble die other day there's a lusty Widow, why she cried not above half an houe-for shame, for shame: then followed him old Master Fulsome the Usurer, there's a wise Widow, why she cried near a whit at all.  Widow 
O rank not me with those wicked women, I had a Husband outshined 'em all.  Sir Godf. 
Ay that he did i'faith, he outshined 'em all.  Widd. 
Dost thou stand there and see us all weep, and not once shed a tear for thy father's death? oh thou ungracious son and heir thou:  Edm, 
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?  Widd. 
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 overthrow 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!  Edm. 
Weep? quotha? I protest I am glad he's Churched? for now he's gone I shall spend in quiet?  Fran. 
Dear mother; pray cease, half your Tears suffice,  
'tis time for you to take truce with your eyes,  
Let me weep now?  Widd. 
Oh such a dear knight! such a sweet husband have I lost, have I lost?— if Blessed be the corpse the rain rains upon, he had it pouring down?  Sir Godf, 
Sister? be of good cheer, we are all mortal ourselves, I come upon you freshly, I near speak without comfort, hear me what I shall say;— my brother has left you wealthy, you're rich.  Widd. 
Oh!  Sir Godf. 
I say you're rich? you are also fair.  Widd. 
Oh!  Sir Godf. 
Go to you're fair you cannot smother it, beauty will come to light; nor are your years so far entered with you; but that you will be sought after; and may very well answer another husband; the world is full of fine Gallants, choice enough 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 too, 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 inquired 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 Choir 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 all dust and ashes;  
Oh, out of a million of millions, I should near 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, received all, had money in my purse, spent what I would, went abroad when I would, came home when I would, and did all what I would? Oh— my sweet husband; I shall never have the like?  Sir Godf 
Sister? near 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?  Wid. 
Never? oh if you love me urge it not,  
Oh may I be the byword of the world,  
The common talk at Table in the mouth  
Of every Groom and Waiter, if e'er more  
I entertain the carnal suit of Man?  Mol. 
I must kneel down for fashion too?  Frank. 
And I, whom never man as yet hath scaled  
e'en in this depth of general sorrow, vow  
Never to marry, to sustain such loss  
As a dear husband seems to be, once dead?  Mol. 
I loved my father well too; but to say,  
Nay now, 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.  Wid. 
Dear Copy of my husband, oh let me kiss thee:  
How like him is their Model? their brief Picture  Drawing out her husband's Picture. 
Quickens my tears: my sorrows are renewed  
At their fresh sight?  Sir Godf. 
Sister—  Wid. 
Away,  
All honesty with him is turned to clay,  
Oh my sweet husband, oh—  Frank. 
My dear father?  Exeunt mother and daughters. Mol. 
Here's a puling 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 handkercher,— and sometimes the spital stands too nigh 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 Godf. 
Well, go thy ways old Sir Godfrey, and thou mayst 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 should 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 ,, between joy and grief, I should e'en cry outright!  Exit Sir Godfrey. Edmund. 
So, a fair riddance, my father's laid in dust, his Coffin and he is like a whole-meat-pie, and the worms will cut him up shortly; farewell old Dad, farewell. I'll be curbed in no more, I perceive 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 forsooth, and why? because he cozened the right heir being a fool, and bestowed 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 Coxcomb, I'll rule the Roast myself, 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. Enter George Py-bord 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 turnspit, as nimble as a fencer, & as lousy as a schoolmaster; now thou art put to silence like a Sectary?— war sits now like a justice of peace, and does nothing, where be your Muskets, Calivers and Hotshots? in Long-lane, at Pawn, at Pawn;— Now keys, are your only Guns, Key-guns, Key-guns, & Bawds the Gunners,— who are your sentinels in peace, and stand ready charged to give warning; with hems, hums, & pocky-coffs; only your Chambers are licenced to play upon you, and Drabs enough to give fire to 'em.  Skir. 
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 hobnails.  Pie. 
Pretty mystery for a beggar, for indeed a hobnail is the true emblem of a beggars shoe-sole;  Skir. 
I will not say but that war is a bloodsucker, 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 Ancient, 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) than a professed war.  Pye. 
Troth, and for mine own part, I am a poor Gentleman, & a Scholar, I have been matriculated in the University, wore out sixe Gowns there, seen some fools, and some Scholars, some of the City, and some of the Country, kept order, went bareheaded over the Quadrangle, eat my Commons with a good stomach, and Battled with Discretion; at last, having done many sleights and tricks to maintain my wit in use (as my brain would never endure me to be idle,) I was expelled the University, only for stealing a Cheese out of jesus College.  Skir. 
be't 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 pit-holed, 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 ladies 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, hatched, and nourished, 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 Fantasy, and discredited by being too much spoken off— in so many & mean mouths, I myself being a Scholar and a Graduate, have no other comfort by my learning, but the Affliction of my words, to know how Scholarlike to name what I want, & can call myself a Beggar 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 must either be Thieves or richmen, Knaves or Beggars.  Skirmish. 
Well, would I had been borne a Knave then, when I was borne a Beggar, 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 Auerni, 'tis an easy journey to a Knave, thou mayst 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 Good-morrows, and every profession makes itself greater by imperfections, why not we then by shifts, wiles, and forgeries? and seeing our brains are our only Patrimonies, let's spend with judgement, 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 myself will put on the Deceit of a Fortune-teller, a Fortune-teller.  Skirm. 
Very proper.  Pye. 
And you of a figure-caster, or a conjuror.  Skir. 
A conjuror.  Pye. 
Let me alone, I'll instruct you, and teach you to deceive all eyes, but the devils.  Skir. 
Oh ay, 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 enough for cunning to work upon.  Skir. 
Oh wondrous new fools and fresh Asses.  Pye. 
Oh, fit, fit, excellent.  Skir. 
What in the name of Conjuring?  Pye-boord. 
My memory greets me happily with an admirable subject to graze upon. The lady-widow, who of late I saw weeping in her Garden for the death of her Husband, sure she's but a waterish soul, and half on't by this time is dropped out of her eyes: device well managed may do good upon her: it stands firm, my first practice shall be there?  Skir. 
You have my voice George?  Pye-boord. 
Sh'as a grey 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 sleights.  Skir. 
near doubt me George pie-board.— only you must teach me to conjure.  Enter Captain Idle, pinioned, & with a guard of Officers passeth over the Stage. Pye. 
Push, I'll perfect thee, Peter:  
How now? what's he?  Skir. 
Oh George! this sight kills me,  
'tis my sworn Brother, Captain Idle.  Pye. 
Captain Idle.  Skir. 
Apprehended for some felonious act or other, he has started out, h'as made a Night on't, lacked 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 hanged 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 than a soothing Puritan.  Exeunt. Enter at one door Corporal Oath, a Vainglorious fellow, and at the other, three of the Widow Puritans servingmen, Nicholas Saint-Antlings, Simon Saint-Mary-Oueries, and frailty in black scurvy mourning coats, and Books at their Girdles, as coming from Church. They meet. Nich. 
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 withal, we must not swear I can tell you, and you have the name for swearing.  Sim. 
ay, 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.  Frail. 
There is none of us I can tell you, but shall be soundly whipped for swearing.  Corp. 
Why how now? we three? Puritanical Scrape-shoes, Flesh o' good Fridays? a hand.  All. 
Oh.  Corp. 
Why Nicholas Saint-Antlings, Simon Saint Mary Oueries, has the Devil possessed you, that you swear no better, you half-christened catamites, you ungodmothered Varlets, does the first lesson teach you to be proud, and the second to be Coxcombs; proud Coxcombs? not once to do duty to a man of Mark.  Frail. 
A man of Mark, quoth, I do not think he can show a beggars Noble.  Corpo. 
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 breaths upon Frailty. Frail. 
Foh, you lie Nicholas; for here's one strong enough; blow us up quotha! he may well blow me above twelvescore on an him? I warrant if the wind stood right, a man might smell him from the top of Newgate, to the Leads of Ludgate?  Corp. 
Sirrah, thou hollow-book of wax-candle.  Nicho. 
ay, you may say what you will, so you swear not.  Corp. 
I swear by the—  Nicho. 
Hold, hold, good Corporal Oath; for if you swear once, we shall all fall down in a sown presently.  Corp. 
I must and will swear: you quivering Coxcombs, my Captain is imprisoned, and by Vulcan's Leather Codpiece point—  Nich. 
O Simon, what an oath was there.  Frail. 
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?  Corpor. 
With these my bully-feet, I will thump ope the Prison doors, and brain the Keeper with the begging Box, but I'll set my honest sweet Captain Idle at liberty.  Nich. 
How, Captain idle, my old aunt's son, my dear Kinsman in capadoccio.  Cor. 
ay, thou Church-peeling, thou Holy-paring, religious outside thou? if thou hadst any grace in thee, thou wouldst visit him, relieve him, swear to get him out?  Nicho. 
Assure you Corporal indeed-la, 'tis the first time I heard on't,  Cor. 
Why do 't now then, marmoset? bring forth thy yearly-wages, let not a Commander perish!  Simon. 
But, if he be one of the wicked, he shall perish.  Nich. 
Well Corporal, I'll e'en 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 Overies and frailty, pray make a lie for me to the Knight my Master, old Sir Godfrey.  Cor. 
A lie? may you lie then?  Fray. 
O ay, we may lie, but me must not swear.  Sim. 
True, we may lie with our neighbours wife, but we must not swear we did so;  Cor. 
Oh, an excellent Tag of religion?  Nic. 
Oh Simon, I have thought upon a sound excuse, it will go current, say that I am gone to a Fast;  Sim. 
To a Fast, very good?  Nic. 
ay, to a Fast say, with Master Full-belly the Minister.  Sim. 
Master Full-belly? an honest man: he feeds the flock well, for he's an excellent feeder?  Exit Corporal, Nicholas. Fray. 
O ay, I have seen him eat up a whole Pig, and afterward falls to the pettitoes?  Exit Simon and Frailty. The Prison, Marshalsea. Enter Captain idle at one door, and old soldier at the other. George Pyeboord, speaking within. Pye. 
Pray turn the key.  Sker. 
Turn the key I pray?  Cap. 
Who should those be, I almost know their voices? O my friends?  Entering. 
You're welcome to a smelling Room here? you newly took leave of the air be't not a strange savour?  Pie. 
'As all prisons have, smells of sundry wretches;  
Who though departed, leave their scents behind 'em,  
By God Captain, I am sincerely sorry for thee.  Cap. 
By my troth George I thank thee; but pish,— what must be, must be.  Skir. 
Captain, what do you lie in for? be't great? what's your offence?  Cap. 
Faith, my offence is ordinary,— common? A Highway, and I fear me my penalty will be ordinary and common too, a halter.  Pie. 
Nay prophesy not so ill, it shall go hard'  
But I'll shift for thy life.  Cap. 
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 pursy 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.  Skir. 
I am twice sorry for you Captain: first that your purchase was so small, and now that your danger is so great.  Cap. 
Push, the worst is but death,— ha' you a pipe of Tobacco about you?  Skir. 
I think, I have thereabouts about me!  Cap blows a pipe. Cap. 
Her's a clean Gentleman too, to receive?  Pie. 
Well, I must cast about, some happy sleight,  
Work brain, that ever didst thy Master right?  Cor. 
Keeper? let the key be turned  Corporal and Nicholas Nic. 
ay, I pray Master keeper give's a cast of your office? within.  Cap. 
How now more Visitants?— what Corporal Oath?  Pie. Skir. 
Corporal?  Cor. 
In prison honest Captain? this must not be?  Nic. 
How do you Captain Kinsman?  Cap. 
Good Coxcomb? what makes that pure— starched fool here?  Nic. 
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;  Cap. 
This is a double torture now,— this fool byth' book  
does vex me more than my imprisonment?  
What meant you Corporal to hook him hither?  Cor. 
Who he? he shall relieve thee, and supply thee,  
I'll make him do't;  Cap. 
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 Lawyer 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 restored to his blood, and in Heaven again!  Nic. 
I warrant my Kinsman's talking of me, for my left ear burns most tyrannically?  Pie. 
Captain idle? what's he there? he looks; like a Monkey upward; and a Crane downward.  Cap. 
Pshaw; a foolish cousin of mine; I must thank God for him.  Pie. 
Why the better subject to work a scape upon; thou shalt e'en change clothes with him, and leave him here, and so;  Cap. 
Push, I published 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 then that, if the slave would be sociable— now goodman Fleer-face?  Nic. 
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?  Capt. 
Speak low George; Prison Rats have wider ears than those in Malt-lofts.  Nic. 
cousin, if it lay in my power, as they say?— to— do;  Cap. 
'twould do me an exceeding pleasure indeed that, but near talk further on't, the fool will be hanged, ere he do't.  Cor. 
Pax, I'll thump 'im to't.  Pie. 
Why do but try the Fopster, and break it to him bluntly.  Cap. 
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.  Nic. 
I would be heartily glad cousin, if any of my friendships, as they say, might— stand, ah,  Pie. 
Why, you see he offers his friendship foolishly to you already?  Captain. 
ay, that's the hell on't, I would he would offer it wisely?  Nich. 
Verily, and indeed la, Cousin?—  Cap. 
I have took note of thy fleers a good while, if thou art minded to do me good? as thou gap'st upon me comfortably, and giv'st me charitable faces? which indeed is but a fashion in you all that are Puritans? willt soon at night steal me thy masters chain?  Nich. 
Oh, I shall sown!  Pie. 
Corporal, he starts already!  Cap. 
I know it to be worth three hundred Crowns, & with the half of that, I can buy my life at a broker's, at second hand, which now lies in pawn toth' 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 hold'st my life at no price, and these thy broken & unjointed offers, are but only created in thy lip, now borne, and now buried, foolish breath only? what; wilt do't? shall I look for happiness in thy answer?  Nic. 
Steal my masters chain quotha? no, it shall near be said that Nicholas Saint Saint-Antlings committed Bird-lime!  Cap. 
Nay, I told you as much; did I not; though he be a Puritan yet he will be a true man?  Nich. 
Why Cousin? you know 'tis written, thou shalt not steal?  Cap. 
Why, and fool, thou shalt love thy Neighbour, and help him in extremities?  Nich. 
Mass I think it be indeed, in what Chapter's that Cousin?  Cap. 
Why in the first of Charity, the second verse.  Nich. 
The first of Charity, quotha than, that's a good jest, there's no such Chapter in my book!  Cap. 
No, I knew 'twas torn out of thy Book, & that makes so little in thy heart.  Pie. 
Come, let me tell you, you're too unkind a Kinsman i'faith; the Captain loving you so dearly, ay, like the Pomwater of his eye, and you to be so uncomfortable, fie, fie.  Nic. 
Pray do not wish me to be hanged, anything else that I can do, had it been to rob, I would ha' done't, but I must not steal, that's the word the literal, thou shalt not steal, and would you wish me to steal then?  Pie. 
No faith, that were too much, to speak truth: why wilt thou nim it from him.  Nich. 
That I will?  Pie. 
Why enough bully; he shall be content with that, or he shall ha' none; let me alone with him now! Captain, I ha' dealt with your Kinsman in a Corner; a good, kind-natured fellow, methinks: 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.  Nich. 
ay, that I will, Cousin.  Cap. 
Well seeing he will do no more, as far as I see I must be contented with that.  Cor. 
Here's no notable gullery?  Pie. 
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 be only laid out of the way some one or two days?  Nich. 
ay, that would be good indeed? Kinsman?  Pie. 
For I have a farther reach to profit us better by the missing on't only, then if we had it outright, as my discourse shall make it known too you?— when thou hast the chain, do but convey it out at backdoor into the Garden, and there hang it close in the Rosemary bank, but for a small season; and by that harmless devise, I know how to wind Captain idle, out of prison, the Knight thy Master shall get his pardon and release him, & he satisfy thy Master with his own chain & wondrous thanks on both hands.  Nich. 
That were rare indeed la: pray let me know how?  Pie. 
Nay 'tis very necessary thou shouldst know, because thou must be employed as an Actor?  Nich. 
An Actor? O no, that's a Player? and our Parson rails again Players mightily I can tell you, because they brought him drunk upo'th' Stage once,— as he will be horribly drunk.  Cor. 
Mass I cannot blame him then, poor Church-spout?  Pie. 
Why as an Intermeddler then?  Nich. 
Ay that, that.  Pie. 
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 bareheaded by his horse-belly (when he has one) whom he will cause with most Irish Dexterity to fetch his chain, though 'twere hid under a mine of seacoal, and near make Spade or Pickaxe his instruments, tell him but this with farther instructions thou shalt receive from me, and thou showst thyself a Kinsman indeed.  Cor. 
A dainty Bully.  Skir. 
An honest— book keeper.  Cap. 
And my three times thrice honey Cousin.  Nich. 
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 methinks for mine own Father.  Skir. 
He bears a good mind in that Captain!  Pie. 
Why well said, he begins to be an honest fellow faith.  Cor. 
In troth he does.  Nich. 
You see Cousin, I am willing to do you any kindness, always saving myself harmless?  Exit Nicholas. Captain. 
Why I thank thee, fare thee well, I shall requite it.  Exit Nich. Cor. 
'twill be good for thee Captain, that thou hast such an egregious Ass to thy cousin.  Cap. 
ay, is he not a fine fool Corporal?  
But George thou talk'st of Art and conjuring,  
How shall that be?  Peb. 
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 Widow with a quaint assault,  
Captain be merry.  Capt. 
Who I? kerry merry buff-jerkin?  Pye. 
Oh, I am happy in more sleights, and one will knit strong in another— Corporal Oath?  Corp. 
Hoh Bully?  Pye. 
And thou old Peter Skirmish, I have a necessary task for you both.  Skir. 
Lay't upon George pie-board.  Corp 
whate'er it be, we'll manage it.  Pye. 
I would have you two maintain a quarrel before the  
Lady widows door, and draw your swords i'th' edge of the  
Evening: clash a little, clash, clash.  Corp. 
Fuh.  
Let us alone to make our Blades ring noon,  
Though it be after Supper.  Pye. 
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 Widow, I have a good plain Satin suit, that I had of a young Reveller tother night, for words pass not regarded nowadays 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 near 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 Jills quickly be upon a man's jack.  Capt. 
True George?  Pye. 
Fare thee well Captain. Come Corporal and Ancient? thou shalt hear more news next time we greet thee?  Corp. 
More news? Ay; by you Bear at bridge-foot in heaven shalt thou.  Exeunt. Capt. 
Enough: my friends farewell,  
This prison shows as if Ghosts did part in Hell.  Enter Moll youngest Daughter to the Widow: alone. Moll. 
Not Marry: forswear Marriage? why all women know 'tis as honourable a thing as to lie with a man; and I to spite my sister's 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 withal, and many such pleasing protestations he sticks upon my lips; indeed his short-winded Father i'th' Country is wondrous wealthy, a most abominable Farmer, and therefore he may dov in time: troth I'll venture upon him; women are not without ways enough to help themselves, 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 hours warning I can transform him into an Ox;— there comes in my Relief again.  Enter frailty. Frail. 
O Mistress Moll, Mistress Moll.  Moll. 
How now? what's the news?  Frail. 
The Knight your suitor, sir john Pennydub.  Moll. 
Sir john Pennydub? where? where?  Frail. 
he's walking in the Gallery.  Moll. 
Has my Mother seen him yet.  Frail. 
O no, she's— spitting in the Kitchen.  Moll. 
Direct him hither softly, good Frailty,— I'll meet him half way.  Frail. 
That's just like running a Tilt; but I hope he'll break nothing this time.  Enter Sir john Pennydub. Moll. 
'Tis happiness my Mother saw him not:  
O welcome good Sir John.  Pennydub. 
I thank you faith,— Nay you must stand me, till I kiss you: 'tis the fashion everywhere I'faith, and I came from Court enough?  Moll. 
Nay the Fates forfend that I should anger the fashion?  Penny. 
Then not forgetting the sweet of new ceremonies, I first fall back, then recovering myself; make my honour to your lip thus: and then accost it.  Moll. 
Trust me, very pretty, and moving, you're worthy on't sir,—  
O my Mother, my Mother, now she's here,  Kissing: Ent. Widow & Sir Godfr. 
we'll steal into the Gallery.  Exeunt. Sir Godf. 
Nay Sister, let Reason rule you, do not play the fool, stand not in your own light, you have wealthy offers, large tend'rings, do not withstand your good fortune: who comes a-wooing to you I pray? no small fool, a rich Knight ath City, Sir Oliver Muckhill, no small fool I can tell you: and furthermore as I heard late by your Maidservants, (as your Maidservants will say to me any thing I thank 'em) both your Daughters are not without Suitors, ay, and worthy ones too? one a Brisk Courtier, Sir Andrew Tipstaff; suitor afar 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?  Wid. 
Tempt me not Satan.  Sir Godf. 
Satan? do I look like Satan? I hope the devil's not so old as I, I trow.  Wid. 
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 named,  Enter Simon. 
How now Simon? where's my son Edmund?  Sim, 
verily madam, he is at vain Exercise, dripping in the Tennis-court.  Wid. 
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, though far inferior, as Harry of Monmouth won all, and Harry of Windsor lost all, so Edmund of Bristol that was the Father, got all, and Edmond of London that's his son now, will spend all?  Sir Godf. 
Peace Sister, we'll have him reformed, there's hope on him yet, though it be but a little.  Enter Frailty. Frail. 
Forsooth Madam? there are two or three Archers at door, would very gladly speak with your Ladyship.  Wid. 
Archers?  Sir Godf. 
Your husband's Fletcher I warrant.  Wid. 
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 Tipstaff, Sir Oliver Much-hill, and Pennydub. Frail. 
Who 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.  Wid. 
Out ignorant slave.  Muck 
Nay pray be patient Lady,  
We come in way of honourable love.  Tipst. Penny. 
we do.  Muck. 
To you.  Tipst. Penny. 
And to your Daughters?  Widow. 
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 washed off from my Cheeks, and my dear husband's body scarce so cold as the Coffin, what reason have you to offer it? I am not like some of your widows 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 vowed never to marry;— and so have my daughters too!  Penny. 
ay two of you have, but the thirds a good wench!  Muck. 
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. 
Where be your daughters Lady, I hope they'll give us better encouragements?  Wid. 
Indeed they'll answer you so, take't o' my word they'll give you the very same answer Verbatim truly la;  Penny 
Mum: Moll's a good wench still, I know what she'll do?  Muck. 
Well, Lady, for this time we'll take our leaves, hoping for better comfort.  Wid. 
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 yours suits, and you come to me again.  Fray. 
Put off all their suits qua than? ay, that's the best wooing of a Widow indeed, when a man's nonsuited, that is, when he's a-bed with her.  Going out, Muckhill and sir Godfrey. Muck. 
Sir Godfrey? here's twenty Angels more work hard for me; there's life in't yet.  Exit Muckhill. Sir Godf. 
Fear not Sir Oliver Muckhill, I'll stick close for you, leave all with me.  Enter George Pyeboord, the scholar. Pye. 
By your leave Lady Widow.  Wid. 
What another suitor now?  Py. 
A suitor no I protest Lady? if you'd give me yourself  
I'd not be troubled with you.  Wid. 
Say you so Sir, then you're the better welcome sir.  Pie. 
Nay Heaven bless me from a Widow, unless I were sure to bury her speedily!  Wid. 
Good bluntness: well your business sir?  Pie. 
Very needful; if you were in private once?  Wid. 
Needful? brother pray leave us; and you sir?  Fray. 
I should laugh now, if this blunt fellow should put 'em all beside the stirrup, and vault into the saddle himself, I have seen as mad a trick.  Exit Frailty. Enter Daughters. Wid. 
Now Sir?— here's none but we— Daughters forbear.  Pyb. 
O no, pray let 'em stay, for what I have to speak importeth equally to them as to you?  Wid. 
Then you may stay.  Pyb. 
I pray bestow on me a serious ear,  
For what I speak is full of weight and fear?  Wid. 
Fear?  Pyb. 
ay if't pass unregarded, and uneffected,  
Else peace and joy:— I pray Attention?  
Widow? 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?  Wed. 
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.  Pyb. 
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 Bonfire: 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 yourself and your eldest Daughter, and the speedy determination of marriage in your youngest.  Moll. 
How knows he that, what, h'as some Devil told him?  Wid. 
Strange he should know our thoughts:—  
Why but Daughter have you purposed speedy Marriage?  Pyb. 
You see she tells you ay, 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 supernatural intelligence.  Wid. 
This puts Amazement on me?  Frank. 
Know our secrets.  Mol. 
I'd thought to steal a marriage, would his tongue  
Had dropped out when he blabbed it.  Wid. 
But sir, my husband, was too honest a dealing man to be now in any purgatories—  Pie. 
O Do not load your conscience with untruths,  
'tis but mere folly now to guild 'em over:  
That has passed but for Copper; Praises here,  
Cannot unbind him there? confess but truth,  
I know he got his wealth with a hard gripe:  
Oh hardly, hardly?  Wid. 
This is most strange of all, how knows he that?  Pie. 
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?  Wid. 
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!  Pie. 
o?  Wid. 
A man that would keep Church so duly; rise early, before his servants, and e'en for Religious haste, go ungartered, unbuttoned, nay sir Reverence untrust, to Morning Prayer?  Pie. 
Oh uff;  Wid. 
Dine quickly upon high-days, and when I had great guess, would e'en shame me and rise from the Table, to get a good seat at an afternoon Sermon?  Pie. 
There's the devil, there's the devil, true, he thought it Sanctity enough, if he had killed a man, so 'thas been done in a pew, or undone his Neighbour, so 'tad been near enough toth' Preacher, Oh;— a Sermon's a fine short cloak of an hour long, and will hide the upper-part of a dissembler,— Church, ay, he seemed all Church, & his conscience was as hard as the Pulpit!  Wid. 
I can no more endure this.  Pie, 
Nor I widow  
Endure to flatter.  Wid. 
Is this all your business with me?  Pie, 
No, Lady, 'tis but the induction to't't,  
You may believe my strains, I strike all true?  
And if your conscience would leap up to your tongue, yourself 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!  Wid. 
A loss, marry heaven forfend, Sir Godfrey, my brother!  Pie. 
Nay keep in your wonders, till I have told you the fortunes of you all; which are more fearful, if not happily prevented— for your part & your daughters, if there be not once this day some bloodshed before your door, whereof the humane creature dies? two of you the elder shall run mad?  Mother and Frank. 
Oh.  Mol. 
That's not I yet!  Pie. 
And with most impudent prostitution show your naked bodies to the view of all beholders!  Wid. 
Our naked bodies? fie for shame:  Pie. 
Attend me: and your younger daughter be strucken dumb?  Mol. 
Dumb? out alas: 'tis the worst pain of all for a Woman, I'd rather be mad, or run naked, or any thing: dumb?  Pie. 
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.  Widow. 
If this be true, we are all shamed, all undone?  Mol. 
Dumb? I'll speak as much as ever I can possible before evening?  Pie. 
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 & bloodshedding which I before told you off: take heed upon your lives; that two of you which have vowed never to marry, seek you out husbands with all present speed and you the third that have such a desire to outstrip chastity, look you meddle not with a husband.  Moll. 
A double torment.  Pyb. 
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.  Wid. 
Marry? why I vowed never to marry.  Frank. 
And so did I.  Moll. 
And I vowed never to be such an Ass, but to marry. what a cross Fortune's this?  Pyb. 
Ladies, though 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.  Widow. 
Oh 'tis a just vengeance, for my husband's hard purchases.  Pyb. 
I wish you to bethink yourselves, and leav'em.  Wid. 
I'll to Sir Godfrey my Brother, and acquaint him with these fearful presages.  Frank. 
For Mother they portend losses to him.  Wid. 
Oh ay, they do, they do,  
If any happy issue crown thy words,  
I will reward thy cunning.  Pyb. 
'Tis enough Lady,  
I wish no higher.  Exit. Mol. 
Dumb, and not marry, worse,  
Neither to speak, nor kiss, a double curse?  Exit. Pyb. 
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 hostess's Garden, which neighbours the Orchard of the Widow, I laid the hole of mine ear to a hole in the wall, and heard 'em make these vows, & 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 Widow, 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 borne to execution, I'll step in, & 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 itself, and so shall I get myself into a most admired opinion, and under the pretext of that cunning, beguile as I see occasion: and if that foolish Nicholas Saint Saint-Antlings keep true time with the chain, my plot will be found; the Captain delivered, and my wits applauded among scholars and soldiers for ever.  Exit Pyeboord. Enter Nicholas Saint Saint-Antlings with the chain. Nic. 
Oh I have found an excellent advantage to take away the chain, my Master put it off e'en now to 'ssay on a new Doublet, and I sneaked it away by little & little most Puritanically! we shall have good sport anon when has missed it, about my cousin the conjuror, the world shall see I'm an honest man of my word for now I'm going to hang it between Heaven & Earth among the Rosemary branches.  Exit Nich.  

Actus 3.  Enter Simon Saint Mary-Overies and Frailty. Frai. 
Sirrah Simon Saint? my Mistress sends away all her suitors and puts fleas in their their?  Sim. 
Frailty? she does like an honest chaste, and virtuous woman? for widows ought not to wallow in the puddle of iniquity.  Fra. 
Yet Simon, many widows will do't, what so comes on't.  Sim. 
True Frailty, their filthy flesh desires a Conjunction Copulative what strangers are within, Frailty?  Frai. 
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.  Skir. 
How now creatures? what's o'clock.  Enter old Skirmish the soldiers. Frai. 
Why do you take us to be jack a'th' Clockhouse?  Skir. 
I say again to you what's o'clock?  Sim. 
Truly la, we go by the clock of our conscience, all worldly Clocks we know go false, and are set by drunken Sextons.  Skir. 
Then what's o'clock in your conscience?— oh, I must break off, here comes the corporal— hum, hum!— what's o'clock?  Enter Corporal. Corp. 
o'clock? why past seventeen.  Frai. 
Past seventeen? nay has met with his match now, Corporal Oath will fit him.  Skir. 
Thou dost not balk or baffle me, dost thou? I am a Soldier— past seventeen.  Corp. 
ay, 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.  Skir. 
I say 'tis but past five then.  Corp. 
I'll swear 'tis past seventeen then! dost thou not know numbers, canst thou not cast?  Skir. 
Cast? dost thou speak of my casting i'th' street? Draw.  Corp. 
ay, and in the Market place.  Sim, 
Clubs, clubs, clubs.  Simon runs in. Frail. 
ay, 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 Pyeboord. Cap. 
O villain, thou hast opened a vain in my leg.  Pyb. 
How now, for shame, for shame, put up, put up.  Cap. 
By yond blue Welkin, 'twas out of my part George to be hurt on the leg.  Enter Officers. Pyb. 
Oh peace now— I have a Cordial here to comfort thee.  Offi. 
Down with 'em, down with 'em, lay hands upon the villain.  Skir. 
Lay hands on me?.  Pyb. 
I'll not be seen among 'em now.  Cap. 
I'm hurt, and had more need have Surgeons,  
Lay hands upon me then rough Officers.  Offi. 
Go carry him to be dressed then:  
This mutinous Soldier shall along with me to prison.  Skir. 
To prison, where's George.  Offi. 
Away with 'em.  Exeunt with Skir. Pyb. 
So,  
All lights as I would wish, the amazed widow,  
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 Pyeboord. Enter the Widow with her two Daughters. Wid. 
O wondrous happiness, beyond our thoughts:  
O lucky fair event, I think our fortunes,  
Were blessed 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.  Frail. 
Madam, he was carried to the superior, but if he had no money when he came there, I warrant he's dead by this time.  Exit Frailty. Frank. 
Sure that man is a rare fortune-teller, never looked upon our hands, nor upon any mark about us, a wondrous fellow surely.  Moll. 
I am glad, I have the use of my tongue yet: though of nothing else, I shall find the way to marry too, I hope shortly.  Wid. 
O where's my Brother sir Godfrey, I would he were here, that I might relate to him how prophetically, the cunning Gentleman spoke in all things.  Enter Sir Godfrey in a rage. Sir Godf. 
O my Chain, my Chain, I have lost my Chain, where be these Villains, Varlets?  Wid. 
Oh; 'has lost his Chain.  Sir Godf. 
My Chain, my chain.  Widow. 
Brother be patient, hear me speak, you know I told you that a cunning man told me, that you should have a loss, and he has prophesied so true.  Sir Godf. 
Out he's a villain, to prophesy of the loss of my chain, 'twas worth above three hundred Crowns,— besides 'twas my father's, my father's fathers, my grandfathers huge grandfathers? I had as live ha' lost my Neck, as the chain that hung about it; O my chain, my chain.  Wid. 
Oh brother, who can be against a misfortune, 'tis happy 'twas no more.  Sir Godf. 
No, more! O goodly godly sister, would you had me lost more? my best gown too, with the cloth of gold lace? my holiday gaskins, and my jerkin set with pearl; no more?  Wid. 
Oh, Brother! you can read.—  Sir Godf. 
But I cannot read where my chain is,— what strangers have been here? you let in strangers! thieves, and Catchpoles; how comes it gone? there was none above with me but my tailor; and my tailor will not— steal I hope?  Mol. 
No he's afraid of a chain!  Enter Frailty. Wid. 
How now sirrah, the news?  Fray. 
O Mistress, he may well be called a Corporal now, for his corpse are as dead as a cold capon's?  Wid. 
More happiness.  Sir Godf. 
Sirrah, what's this to my chain? where's my chain knave?  Fray. 
Your chain sir?  Sir Godf. 
My chain is lost villain.  Fray. 
I would he were hanged in chains that has it then for me? Alas sir, I saw none of your chain, since you were hung with it yourself?  Sir Godf. 
Out varlet? it had full three thousand Links,  
I have oft told it over at my prayers:  
Over and over, full three thousand Links.  Frayl. 
Had it so sir: sure it cannot be lost then; I'll put you in that comfort.  Sir Godf. 
Why why?  Frayl. 
Why if your chain had so many Links, it cannot choose but come to light.  Enter Nicholas. Sir Godf. 
Delusion? now long Nicholas where's my chain.  Nich. 
Why about your Neck, be't not sir.  Sir Godf. 
About my neck Varlet. My chain is lost,  
'tis stole away, I'm robbed.  Wid. 
Nay Brother show yourself a man:  Nic. 
I if it be lost or stole, if he would be patient Mistress I could bring him to a Cunning Kinsman of mine that wouldfetched again with a Sesarara.  Sir Godf. 
Canst thou? I will be patient, say where dwells he?  Nic. 
Marry he dwells now Sir, where he would not dwell and he could choose: in the Marshalsea sir; but he's an exc'llent fellow if he were out, has travelled all the world over, he, and been in the seven and twenty Provinces: why he would make it be fetched Sir if 'twere rid a thousand mile out of town.  Sir Godf. 
An admirable fellow what lies he for.  Nic. 
Why he did but rob a Steward of ten groats other Night, as any man would ha' done, and there he lies for't.  Sir Godf. 
I'll make his peace, a Trifle, I'll get his pardon,  
Beside a bountiful reward, I'll about it,  
But fee the clerk, the justice will do much;  
I will about it straight, good sister pardon me,  
All will be well I hope, and turn to good,  
The name of conjuror has laid my blood.  Exeunt, Enter two sergeants to arrest the Scholar George Pyeboord. Put. 
His hostess's where he lies will trust him no longer, she has feed me to arrest him; and if you will accompany me, because I know not of what Nature the Scholar is, whether desperate or swift, you shall share with me sergeant Raven-shaw, I have the good Angel to arrest him.  Rauen. 
Troth I'll take part with thee then, Sergeant, not for the sake of the money so much, as for the hate I bear to a Scholar: why sergeant 'tis Natural in us you know to hate Scholars: natural besides, they will publish our imperfections, Knaveries, and Conveyances altars upon Scaffolds and Stages.  Put. 
ay and spitefully too; troth I have wondered how the slaves could see into our breasts so much, when our doublets are buttoned with Pewter.  Rauen. 
ay and so close without yielding; oh their perilous fellows, they will search more with their wits then a constable with all his officers.  Put, 
Whist, whist, whist, Yeoman Dogson, Yeoman Dogson.  Dog. 
Ha, what says Sergeant?  Put. 
Is he in the pothecary's shop still,  Dog. 
ay, ay.  Put. 
Have an eye, eye.  Rauen. 
The best is Sergeant if he be a true Scholar he wears no weapon I think.  Put. 
No, no, he wears no weapon.  Rauen. 
Mass, I am right glad of that: 'thas put me in better heart; nay if I clutch him once, let me alone to drag him if he be stiffnecked; I have been one of the six myself, that has dragged as tall men of their hands, when their weapons have been gone as ever bastinadoed a Sergeant— I have done I can tell you.  Dog. 
Sergeant Puttock, Sergeant Puttock.  Put. 
Hoh.  Dog. 
he's coming out single.  Put. 
Peace, peace be not too greedy, let him play a little let him play a little, we'll jerk him up of a sudden, I ha' fished in my time.  Rauen. 
ay and caught many a fool sergeant.  Enter Pyeboord. Pye. 
I parted now from Nicholas: the chain's couched,  
And the old Knight has spent his rage upon't,  
The widow holds me in great Admiration'  
For cunning Art: 'mongst joys I am' e'en lost,  
For my device can no way now be crossed,  
And now I must to prison to the captain, and there—  Put. 
I arrest you sir.  Pye. 
Oh— I spoke truer than I was aware, I must to prison indeed.  Put. 
They say your a scholar, nay sir— Yeoman Dogson, have care to his arms— you'll rail again sergeants, and stage 'em: you, tickle their vices.  Pye. 
Nay use me like a Gentleman, I'm little less.  Put. 
You a Gentleman? that's a good jest i'faith; can a Scholar be a Gentleman,— when a Gentleman will not be a Scholar;— look upon your wealthy citizens' sons, whether they be Scholars or no, that are Gentlemen by their father's trades: a Scholar a Gentleman.  Pye. 
Nay let Fortune drive all her stings into me, she cannot hurt that in me, a Gentleman, is Accidens inseparabile to my blood.  Rauen. 
A rabblement, nay you shall have a bloody rabblement; upon you I warrant you.  Put. 
Go, Yeoman Dogson before, and Enter the Action i'th' Counter.  Pie. 
Pray do not hand me Cruelly, I'll go, Exet Dogson .whither you please to have me,  Put. 
Oh he's tame let him loose sergeant.  Pie. 
Pray at whose suit is this?  Put. 
Why at your hostesses suit where you lie, mistress Cunnyburrow for bed and board, the some four pound five shillings and five pence.  Pie. 
I know the some too true, yet I presumed,  
Upon a farther day; well 'tis my stars:  
And I must bear it now, though never harder.  
I swear now, my device is crossed indeed.  
Captain must lie bite: this is deceits seed.  Put. 
Come, come away.  Pye. 
Pray give me so much time as to knit my garter, and I'll away with you.  Put. 
Well we must be paid for this waiting upon you, this is no pains to attend thus.  Making to tie his garter. Pye. 
I am now wretched, and miserable, I shall near recover of this disease: hot Iron gnaw their fists: they have struck a Fever into my shoulder, which I shall near shake out again I fear me, till with a true Habeas Corpus the Sexton remove me, oh if I take prison once I shall be priest to death with Actions, but not so happy as speedily; perhaps I may be forty year a-pressing till I be a thin old man, that looking through the grates, men may look through me; all my means is confounded, what shall I do? has my wit served me so long, and now give me the slip (like a trained servant) when I have most need of 'im: no device to keep my poor carcase fro these Puttocks?— yes, happiness, have I a paper about me now? yes too, I'll try it, it may hit, Extremity is Touchstone unto wit, ay, ay.  Put. 
'sfoot how many yards are in thy garters, that thou art so long a-tying on them? come away sir.  Pyb. 
Troth sergeant I protest, you could never ha' took me at a worse time, for now at this instant, I have no lawful picture about me.  Put. 
'Slid how shall me come by our fees then.  Rau. 
We must have fees Sirrah.  Pib. 
I could ha' wished i'faith, that you had took me half an hour hence for your own sake, for I protest if you had not crossed me, I was going in great joy to receive five pound of a Gentleman, for the Device of a Mask here, drawn in this paper, but now, come I must be contented, 'tis but so much lost, and answerable to the rest of my fortunes.  Put. 
Why how far hence dwells that Gentleman?  Rau. 
ay, well said sergeant, 'tis good to cast about for money.  Put. 
Speak, if it be not far—  Pyb. 
We are but a little past it, the next street behind us.  Put. 
Slid we have waited upon you grievously already, if you'll say you'll be liberal when you hate, give us double fees, and spend upon's, why we'll show you that kindness, and go along with you to the Gentleman.  Rau. 
I well said still sergeant urge that.  Pyb. 
Troth if it will suffice, it shall be all among you, for my part I'll not pocket a penny, my hostess shall have her four pound five shillings, and bate me the five pence, and the other fifteen shillings I'll spend upon you.  Rauinsh. 
Why now thou art a good Scholar.  Put. 
An excellent Scholar i'faith; has proceeded very well o'late; come, we'll along with you.  Exeunt with him passing in they knock at the door with a Knocker withinside. Ser. 
Who knocks, whose's at door? we had need of a Porter.  Pyb. 
A few friends here?— pray is the Gentleman your master within.  Ser. 
Yes, is your business to him?  Pyb. 
ay, he knows it, when he see's me:  
I pray you have you forgot me.  Ser. 
ay by my troth sir, Pray come near, I'll in and tell him of you, please you to walk here in the Gallery till he comes.  Pyb. 
we will attend his worship,— worship I think, for so much the Posts at his door should signify, and the fair coming in, and the wicket, else I neither knew him nor his worship, but 'tis happiness he is within doors, whatsoe'er he be, if he be not too much a formal Citizen, he may do me good: sergeant and Yeoman, how do you like this house, be't not most wholesomely plotted?  Rauen. 
Troth prisoner, an exceeding fine house.  Pyb. 
Yet I wonder how he should forget me, for he near knew me: No matter, what is forgot in you will be remembered in your Master.  
A pretty comfortable room this methinks:  
You have no such rooms in prison now?  Put. 
Oh dog-holes toot,  Pyb. 
Dog-holes indeed— I can tell you I have great hope to have my Chamber here shortly, nay and diet too, for he's the most free-heartedst Gentleman where he takes: you would little think it? and what a fine Gallery were here for me to walk and study, and make verses,  Put. 
O it stands very pleasantly for a Scholar.  Enter Gentleman. Pyb. 
Look what maps, and pictures, and devices, and things, neatly delicately? mass here he comes, he should be a Gentleman, I like his Beard well;— All happiness to your worship.  Gentle. 
You're kindly welcome sir.  Put. 
A simple salutation.  Rauen. 
Mass it seems the Gentleman makes great account of him.  Pyb. 
I have the thing here for you sir.  Pyb. 
I beseech you conceal me sir, I'm undone else,— I have the Mask here for you sir, Look you sir,— I beseech your worship first to pardon my rudeness, for my extremes makes me bolder than I would be; I am a poor Gentleman and a Scholar, and now most unfortunately fallen into the Fangs of unmerciful officers, arrested for debt, which though small, I am not able to compass, by reason I'm destitute of lands, money, and friends, so that if I fall into the hungry swallow of the prison, I am like utterly to perish, and with fees and extortions be pinched clean to the bone: Now, if ever pity had interest in the blood of a Gentleman, I beseech you vouchsafe but to favour that means of my escape, which I have already thought upon.  Gent. 
Go forward.  Put. 
I warrant he likes it rarely.  Pyb. 
In the plunge of my extremities, being giddy, and doubtful what to do; at last it was put into my labouring thoughts, to make happy use of this paper, and to blear their unlettered eyes, I told them there was a Device for a Mask drawn into, and that (but for their interception,) I was going to a Gentleman to receive my reward for't: they greedy at this word, and hoping to make purchase of me, offered their attendance, to go along with me, my hap was to make bold with your door Sir, which my thoughts showed me the most fairest and comfortablest entrance, and I hope I have happened right upon understanding, and pity: may it please your good Worship then, but to uphold my Device, which is to let one of your men put me out at back-door, and I shall be bound to your worship for ever.  Gent. 
By my troth an excellent device.  Puttock. 
An excellent device he says; he likes it wonderfully.  Gent. 
O' my faith I never heard a better.  Ravenshaw. 
Hark, he swears he never heard a better, Sergeant.  Put. 
O there's no talk on't, he's an excellent Scholar, and especially for a Mask.  Gent. 
Give me your Paper, your Device; I was never better pleased in all my life: good wit, brave wit, finely wrought, come in sir, and receive your money sir.  Pyb. 
I'll follow your good Worship,—  
You heard how he liked it now?  Put. 
Puh, we know he could not choose but like it: go thy ways thou art a witty fine fellow i'faith, thou shalt discourse it to us at Tavern anon wilt thou?  Pyb 
ay, ay, that I will,— look Sergeants here are Maps, and pretty toys, be doing in the mean time, I shall quickly have told out the money, you know.  Put. 
Go, go little villain, fetch thy chink, I begin to love thee, I'll be drunk tonight in thy company.  Pyb. 
This gentleman I may well call a part  
Of my salvation, in these earthly evils,  
For he has saved me from three hungry Devils.  Exit George. Puttock. 
Sirrah sergeant, these Maps are pretty painted things, but I could near fancy 'em yet, methinks they're too busy, and full of Circles and Conjurations, they say all the world's in one of them, but I could near find the Counter in the Poultry.  Raue. 
I think so: how could you find it? for you know it stands behind the houses.  Dogson. 
Mass that's true, then we must look o'th' backside for't; 'sfoot here's nothing, all's bare.  Rauen. 
I warrant thee that stands for the Counter, for you know there's a company of bare fellows there.  Put. 
Faith like enough sergeant? I never marked so much before? Sirrah sergeant, and Yeoman, I should love these Maps out a cry now, if we could see if peep out of door in 'em, oh we might have 'em in a morning to our Breakfast so finely, and near knock our heels to the ground a whole day for 'em.  Rauen. 
ay marry sir, I'd buy one then myself.  
But this talk is by the way, where shall's sup tonight,  
Five pound received, let's talk of that,  
I have a trick worth all, you two shall bear him toth' Tavern, whilst I go close with his hostess, and work out of her, I know she would be glad of the sum to finger money; because she knows 'tis but a desperate debt, and full of hazard, what will you say if I bring it to pass that the hostess shall be contented with one half for all; and we to share other; fifth-shillings bullies.  Put. 
Why I would call thee King of Sergeants, and thou shouldst be Chronicled in the Counter book for ever.  Ra. 
Well put it to me, we'll make a Night on't 'faith.  Dog. 
'sfoot I think he receives more money he stays so long.  Put. 
He tarries long indeed, may be I can tell you upon the good liking on't the Gentleman may prove more bountiful.  Ra 
That would be rare, we'll search him.  Put. 
Nay be sure of it we'll search him! and make him light enough.  Enter the Gentlemen. Ra. 
Oh here comes the Gentleman; by your leave sir.  Gen. 
God you god den sirs,— would you speak with me;  Put. 
No, not with your worship sir, only we are bold to stay for a friend of ours that went in with your worship.  Gen. 
Who? not the scholar?  Put. 
Yes e'en he and it please your worship?  Gen. 
Did he make you stay for him? he did you wrong then why, I can assure you he's gone above an hour ago.  Ra. 
How? sir?  Gent. 
I paid him his money, and my man told me he went out at back door.  Put. 
back door?  Gen. 
Why, what's the matter.  Put. 
He was our prisoner sir, we did arrest him.  Gen. 
What he was not? you the sheriffs Officers— you were to blame then,  
Why did you not make known to me as much:  
I could have kept him for you, I protest  
He received all of me in Britain Gold  
Of the last coining;  Ra. 
Vengeance dog him with't.  Put. 
'sfoot has he gulled us so.  Dog. 
Where shall we sup now sergeant?  Put. 
Sup Simon now, eat Porridge for a month;  
Well, we cannot impute it to any lack of goodwill in your Worship,— you did but as another would have done, 'twas our hard fortunes to miss the purchase, but if ere we clutch him again, the Counter shall charm him.  Rauen. 
The hole shall rot him.  Dog. 
Amen.  Exeunt. Gent. 
So,  
Vex out your Lungs without doors, I am proud,  
It was my hap to help him, it fell fit,  
He went not empty neither for his wit:  
Alas poor wretch, I could not blame his brain,  
To labour his delivery, to be free,  
From their unpitying fangs— I'm glad it stood,  
Within my power to do a Scholar good.  Exit. Enter in the Prison, meeting George and Captain, George coming in muffled. Cap. 
How now, whose's that? what are you?  Pyb 
The same that I should be Captain.  Capt. 
George pie-board, honest George? why camest thou in half faced muffled so?  Pyb. 
Oh Captain, I thought we should near ha' laughed again, never spent frolic hour again.  Capt. 
Why? why?  Pyb 
I coming to prepare thee, and with news  
As happy as thy quick delivery,  
Was traced out by the sent, arrested Captain.  Capt. 
Arrested George.  Pyb. 
Arrested, guess, guess, how many Dogs do you think I'd upon me?  Capt. 
Dogs, I say? I know not.  Pyb. 
Almost as many as George Stone the Bear,  
Three at once, three at once.  Capt. 
How didst thou shake 'em off then?  Pyb. 
The time is busy, and calls upon our wits, let it suffice,  
Here I stand safe, and scaped by miracle,  
Some other hour shall tell thee? when we'll steep  
Our eyes in laughter: Captain my device  
Leans to thy happiness, for ere the day  
Be spent toth' Girdle, thou shalt be set free,  
The Corporal's in his first sleep, the Chain is missed,  
Thy Kinsman has expressed thee, and the old Knight  
With palsy-hams now labours thy release,  
What rests, is all in thee, to Conjure Captain.  Cap: 
Conjure: 'sfoot George you know the devil a conjuring I can conjure.  Pib. 
The Devil of conjuring nay by my fay, I'd not have thee do so much Captain as the Devil a conjuring: look here, I ha' brought thee a circle ready charactered and all.  Capt. 
'sfoot George, art in thy right wits, dost know what thou sayst? why dost talk to a Captain, a conjuring, didst thou ever hear of a Captain conjure in thy life, dost call't a Circle, 'tis too wide a thing my thinks: had it been a lesser Circle, than I knew what to have done.  Pib. 
Why every fool knows that Captain: nay then I'll not cog with you Captain, if you'll stay and hang the next Sessions you may.  Capt. 
No by my faith George, come, come, let's to conjuring, let's to conjuring.  Pib. 
But if you look to be released, as my wits have took pain to work it, and all means wrought to farther it, beside to put crowns in your purse, to make you a man of better hopes, and where as before you were a Captain or poor Soldier, to make you now a Commander of rich fools, (which is truly the only best purchase peace can allow you) safer than Highways, Heath, or coney-groves, and yet a far better booty; for your greatest thieves are never hanged, never hanged, for why they're wise, and cheat within doors, and we geld fools of more money in one night, than your false tailed Gelding will purchase in a twelvemonth's running, which confirms the old beldame's saying, he's wisest, that keeps himself warmest, that is, he that robs by a good fire.  Capt. 
Well opened i'faith George, thou hast pulled that saying out of the husk.  Pib. 
Captain Idle, 'tis no time now to delude or delay, the old Knight will be here suddenly, I'll perfect you, direct you, tell you the trick on't: 'tis nothing.  Capt. 
'sfoot George, I know not what to say to't, conjure? I shall be hanged ere I conjure.  Pyb. 
Nay tell not me of that Captain, you'll near conjure after you're hanged, I warrant you look you sir, a perilous matter? sure! first to spread your circle upon the ground, then with a little conjuring ceremony, as I'll have an Hackney-man's wand silvered over a purpose for you, then arriving in the circle, with a huge word, and a great trample as for instance: have you never seen a stalking-stamping Player, that will raise a tempest with his tongue, and thunder with his heels?  Cap. 
O yes, yes, yes: often, often.  Pyb. 
Why be like such a one, for any thing will blear the old knight's eyes, for you must note that he'll near dare to venture into the room, only perhaps peep fearfully through the keyhole, to see how the Play goes forward.  Capt. 
Well I may go about it when I will, but mark the end on't, I shall but shame myself i'faith George, speak big words, and stamp and stare and he look in at Keyhole, why the very thought of that would make me laugh outright, and spoil all, nay I'll tell thee George, when I apprehend a thing once, I am of such a laxative laughter, that if the Devil himself stood by, I should laugh in his face.  Pyb. 
Puh, that's but the babe of a man, and may easily be hushed, as to think upon some disaster, some sad misfortune, as the death of thy Father i'th' Country!  Cap. 
'sfoot that would be the more to drive me into such an ecstasy, that I should near lin laughing.  Pib. 
Why then think upon going to hanging else.  Cap. 
Mass that's well remembered, now i'll do well I warrant thee, near fear me now: but how shall I do George for boisterous words, and horrible names.  Pyb. 
Puh, any fustian invocations Captain will serve as well as the best, so you rant them out well, or you may go to a pothecary's shop, and take all the words from the Boxes.  Cap. 
Troth and you say true George, there's strange words enough to raise a hundred quacksalvers; though they be near so poor when they begin? but here lies the fear on't, how in this false conjuration a true Devil should pop up indeed.  Pyb. 
A true Devil, Captain, why there was near such a one, nay 'faith he that has this place, is as false a Knave as our last Churchwarden.  Capt. 
Then he's false enough a conscience i'faith George.  The Cry at Marshalsea. Cry prisoners. 
Good Gentlemen over the way, send your relief,  
Good Gentlemen over the way,— Good sir Godfrey?  Pyb. 
he's come, he's come.  Nich. 
Master, that's my Kinsman yonder in the buff-jerkin— Kinsman, that's my Master yonder i'th' Taffety Hat— pray salute him entirely?  They salute: and Pyeboord salutes Master Edmond. Sir God. 
Now my friend.  Pib. 
May I partake your name sir.  Edm. 
My name is Master Edmond.  Pyb. 
Master Edmond— are you not a Welshman sir?  Edm. 
A Welshman, why?  Pyb. 
Because Master is your Christen name, and Edmond your surname?  Edm. 
O no; I have more names at home, Master Edmond Pius, is my full name at length.  Pyb. 
O cry you mercy sir?  Whispering. Cap. 
I understand that you are my kinsman's good Master, and in regard of that, the best of my skill is at your service: but had you fortuned a mere stranger, and made no means to me by acquaintance, I should have utterly denied to have been the man; both by reason of the Act passed in Parliament against Conjurers and Witches, as also, because I would not have my Art vulgar, trite, and common.  Sir Godf. 
I much commend your care therein good Captain conjuror, and that I will be sure to have it private enough, you shall dov in my sister's house,— mine own house I may call it, for both our charges therein are proportioned.  Capt. 
Very good sir— what may I call your loss sir?  Sir Godf. 
O you may call't a great loss sir, a grievous loss sir, as goodly a Chain of gold, though I say it, that wore it: how sayest thou Nicholas?  Nich. 
O 'twas as delicious a Chain a Gold, Kinsman you know,—  Sir God. 
You know? did you know't Captain?  Capt. 
Trust a fool with secrets?— Sir he may say I know: his meaning is, because my Art is such, that by it I may gather a knowledge of all things.—  Sir Godf. 
ay very true.  Capt. 
A pax of all fools— the excuse stuck upon my tongue like Ship-pitch upon a mariner's gown, not to come off in haste— by’r lady Knight to lose such a fair Chain a gold, were a foul loss; Well, I can put you in this good comfort on't, if it be between Heaven and Earth Knight, I'll ha''t for you?  Sir God. 
A wonderful conjuror,— O ay, 'tis between heaven and earth I warrant you, it cannot go out of the realm,— I know 'tis somewhere above the earth?  Capt. 
ay nigher the earth than thou wotst on.  Sir Goaf. 
For first my Chain was rich, and no rich thing shall enter into heaven you know?  Nich. 
And as for the Devil Master, he has no need on't, for you know he has a great chain of his own?  Sir Godf. 
Thou sayest true Nicholas, but he has put off that now, that lies by him.  Capt. 
Faith Knight in few words, I presume so much upon the power of my Art; that I could warrant your Chain again.  Sir Godf. 
O dainty Captain?  Capt. 
Marry it will cost me much sweat, I were better go to sixteen whore-houses.  Sir Godf. 
ay good man, I warrant thee.  Capt. 
Beside great vexation of Kidney and Liver.  Nich. 
O 'twill tickle you hereabouts cousin, because you have not been used to't.  Sir Godf. 
No, have you not been used to't Captain?  Capt. 
Plague of all fools still— indeed Knight I have not used it a good while, and therefore 'twill strain me so much the more you know.  Sir Godf. 
Oh it will, it will.  Cap. 
What plunges he puts me to, were not this Knight a fool, I had been twice spoiled now; that captain's worse then accursed that has an ass to his Kinsman— 'sfoot I fear he will drivel't out before I come to't.— Now sir— to come to the point in deed— you see I stick here in the jaw of the Marshalsea, and cannot do't.  Sir Godf. 
Tut tut I know thy meaning, thou wouldst say thou'rt a prisoner, I tell thee thou'rt none.  Cap. 
How none? why is not this the Marshalsea?  Sir Godf. 
wilt hear me speak, I heard of thy rare conjuring My chain was lost, I sweat for thy release, As thou shalt do the like at home for me, Keeper.  Enter Keeper. Keep. 
Sir.  Sir Godf. 
Speak is not this man free?  Keeper 
Yes at his pleasure sir, the fees discharged;  Sir Godf. 
Go, go, I'll discharge them ay.  Keep. 
I thank your worship  Exet Keeper. Cap. 
Now trust me you're a dear Knight kindness unexpected, oh their's nothing to a free Gentleman.— I will conjure for you sir till Froth come through my Buff-jerkin?  Sir Godf. 
Nay then thou shalt not pass with so little a bounty, for at the first sight of my chain again,— Forty fine Angels shall appear unto thee.  Cap. 
'twill be a glorious show, i'faith Knight a very fine show, but are all these of your own house? are you sure of that sir?  Sir Godf. 
ay, ay, no, no, what's he yonder? talking with my wild Nephew, pray heaven, he give him good counsel;  Cap. 
Who he he's a rare friend of mine, an admirable fellow Knight, the finest fortune-teller.  Sir Godf. 
Oh 'tis he indeed that came to my Lady sister, & foretold the loss of my chain, I am not angry with him now, for I see 'twas my fortune to lose it; by your leave M. Fortune-teller, I had a glimpse on you at home at my sister's the widows, there you prophesied of the loss of a chain,— simply though I stand here I was he that lost it.  Pie. 
Was it you sir?  Edn. 
O' my troth Nuncle, he's the rarest fellow, has told me my fortune so right; I find it so right to my nature.  Sir Godf. 
What be't? God send it a good one?  Edm. 
O 'tis a passing good one, Nuncle: for he says I shall prove such an excellent gamester in my time, that I shall spend all faster than my father got it,  Sir Godf. 
There's a fortune in deed,  Edm. 
Nay it hits my humour so pat.  Sir Godf. 
Ay that will be the end on't. will the Curse of the beggar prevail so much, that the son shall consume that foolishly, which the father got, craftily, ay, ay, ay, 'twill, 'twill, 'twill.  Pie. 
Stay, stay, stay  Pyeboord with an Almanac and the Captain. Cap. 
turn over George.  Pie. 
june july, here july that's this month, Sunday thirteen, yesterday fourteen, today fifteen.  Cap. 
Look quickly for the fifteen day,— if within the compass of these two days there would be some Boisterous storm or other, it would be the best, I'd defer him off till then, some tempest and it be thy will?  Pie 
Here's the fifteen day— hot and fair.  Cap. 
Puh, would t'had been hot and foul.  Pie. 
The sixteen day, that's tomorrow, the morning for the most part fair and pleasant.  Cap. 
No luck.  Pie 
But about high-noon-lightning and thunder.  Cap. 
lightning and thunder, admirable, best of all, I'll conjure tomorrow just at high noon George.  Pye. 
Happen but true tomorrow Almanac, and i'll give thee leave to lie all the year after.  Cap. 
sir I must crave your patience, to bestow this day upon me, that I may furnish myself strongly,— I sent a spirit into Lancashire other day, to fetch back a knave Drover, and I look for his return this evening— tomorrow morning my friend here and I will come and breakfast with you.  Sir Godf. 
Oh you shall be both most welcome.  Cap. 
And about Noon without fail, I purpose to conjure.  Sir Godf. 
Mid noon will be a fine time for you.  Edm. 
conjuring, do you mean to conjure at our house tomorrow sir?  Captain 
Marry do I sir? 'tis my intent young Gentleman.  Edm. 
By my troth, I'll love you while I live sort, o rare, Nicholas we shall have conjuring, to morrow,  Nic. 
Puh ay, I could ha' told you of that.  Cap. 
Law he could ha' told him of that, fool, coxcomb could ye.  Edm 
Do you hear me sir, I desire more acquaintance on you, you shall earn some money of me, now I know you can conjure, but can you fetch any that is lost?  Capt. 
Oh any thing that's lost.  Edm. 
Why look you sir, I tell't you as a friend and a conjuror, I should marry a Pothecary's daughter and 'twas told me she lost her maiden head at Stony-stratford; now if you'll do but so much as conjure for't, and make all whole again.—  Captain 
That I will sir.  Edm. 
By my troth I thank you la,  Cap. 
A little merry with your sister's son sir.  Sir Godf. 
Oh a simple young man, very simple, come Captain, and you sir, we'll e'en part with a gallon of wine till tomorrow breakfast.  Tip. Cap. 
Troth agreed sir.  Nic 
kinsman— Scholar?  Pye. 
Why now thou art a good Knave, worth a hundred Brownists.  Nic. 
Am I indeed la: I thank you truly la.  Exeunt.  

Actus. 4.  Enter Moll, and Sir john Pennydub. Penne. 
But I hope you will not serve a Knight so: Gentlewoman will you: to cashier him, and cast him off at your pleasure; what do you think I was dubbed for nothing, no by my faith lady's daughter.  Moll. 
Pray Sir john Pennydub, let it be deferred awhile, I have as big a heart to marry as you can have; but as the Fortune-teller told me.  Penny. 
Pax a'th' Fortune-teller, would Derrick had been his fortune seven year ago, to cross my love thus: did he know what case I was in, why this is able to make a man drown himself in's Father's fishpond.  Moll. 
And then he told me moreover Sir john, that the breach of it, kept my Father in Purgatory.  Penny. 
In Purgatory? why let him purge out his heart there, what have we to do with that? there's Physicians enough there to cast his water, is that any matter to us: how can he hinder our love, why let him be hanged now he's dead?— Well, have I rid post day and night, to bring you merry news of my father's death, and now—  Moll. 
Thy Father's death? is the old Farmer dead?  Penny. 
As dead as his barn door Moll.  Moll, 
And you'll keep your word with me now, Sir john. that I shall have my Coach and my Coachman?  Penny. 
i'faith.  Moll. 
And two white Horses with black Feathers to draw it?  Penny. 
Too,  Moll. 
A guarded Lackey to run before't, and pied liveries to come trashing after't.  Penny. 
Thou shalt Moll.  Moll. 
And to let me have money in my purse to go wither I will.  Penny. 
All this.  Moll. 
Then come, whatsoe'er comes on't, we'll be made sure together before the Maids a'the Kitchen.  Exeunt. Enter Widow, with her eldest Daughter Frank and Frailty. Wid. 
How now? where's my Brother Sir Godfrey? went he forth this morning?  Frail. 
O no madam, he's above at breakfast, with sir reverence a conjuror.  Wid. 
A conjuror? what manner o' fellow is he?  Frail. 
Oh, a wondrous rare fellow Mistress, very strongly made upward, for he goes in a Buff-jerkin: he says he will fetch Sir Godfrey's Chain again, if it hang between heaven and earth.  Wid. 
What he will not? then he's an exc'llent fellow I warrant. how happy were that woman to be blessed with such a Husband, a man o' cunning? how does he look Frailty: very swartly I warrant, with black beard, scorched cheeks, and smoky eyebrows.  Frail. 
Fooh— he's neither smoke-dried, nor scorched, nor black, nor nothing, I tell you madam, he looks as fair to see to, as one of us; I do not think but if you saw him once, you'd take him to be a Christian.  Frank. 
So fair, and yet so cunning, that's to be wondered at Mother.  Enter Sir Oliver Muckhill, and Sir Andrew Tipstaff. Muck. 
Bless you sweet Lady.  Tip 
And you fair Mistress.  Exit Frailty. Wid. 
Coades? what do you mean Gentlemen? fie, did I not give you your answers?  Muck. 
Sweet Lady?  Wid. 
Well, I will not stick with you now for a kiss,  
Daughter kiss the Gentleman for once.  Frank. 
Yes forsooth.  Tip. 
I'm proud of such a favour.  Wid. 
Truly la, sir Oliver, you're much to blame to come again, when you know my mind, so well delivered— as a Widow could deliver a thing.  Muck. 
But I expect a farther comfort Lady.  Wid. 
Why la you now, did I not desire you to put off your suit quite & clean, when you came to me again, how say you, did I not.  Muc. 
But the sincere love which my heart bears you,  Wid. 
Go to, i'll cut you off. & Sir Oliver to put you in comfort afar off, my fortune is read me, I must marry again.  Muck. 
O blessed fortune!  Wid. 
But not as long as I can choose;— nay I'll hold out, well.  Muc. 
Yet are my hopes now fairer.  Enter Frailty. Frail 
O Madam Madam.  Wid. 
How now, what's the haste?  In her ear. Tipst. 
Faith Mistress Francis I'll maintain you gallantly. I'll bring you to Court, wean you among the fair society of ladies poor Kinswomen of mine in cloth of silver, beside you shall have your monkey, your parrot, your Muskat, & your piss, piss, piss.  Frank. 
It will do very well.  Wid. 
What does he mean to conjure here then? how shall I do to be rid of these Knights,— please you Gentlemen to walk a while i'th' Garden, go gather a pink, or a gillyflower.  Both. 
With all our hearts Lady, and count us favoured?  Exit. Si. Go. 
Step in Nicholas, look, is the coast clear.  within Sir Go. Nic. 
Oh, as clear as a cats eye, sir.  Sir Go. 
Then enter Captain conjurer?— now— how like you your Room sir?  Enter Sir Godf. Capt. Pyb. Edm. Nick. Cap. 
O wonderful convenient.  Edm. 
I can tell you Captain, simply though it lies here, 'tis the fairest Room in my Mother's house, as dainty a Room to conjure in, methinks,— why you may bid, I cannot tell how many devils welcome in't; my Father has had twenty here at once!  Pie. 
What devils?  Edn. 
devils, no Deputies, & the wealthiest men he could get.  Sir God. 
Nay put by your chattels now, fall to your business roundly, the feskewe of the Dial is upon the Christ-cross of Noon, but oh: hear met Captain, a qualm comes o'er my stomach?  Cap. 
Why, what's the matter sir?  Sir Godf. 
Oh, how if the devil should prove a knave, and tear the hangings.  Cap. 
Fuh, I warrant you Sir Godfrey:  Edm. 
ay Nuncle, or spit fire upo'th' ceiling!  Sir Godf 
Very true too, for 'tis but thin plastered, and 'twill quickly take hold o' the laths, and if he chance to spit downward-to, he will burn all the boards.  Cap. 
My life for yours Sir Godfrey?  Sir Godf. 
My Sister is very curious & dainty o'er this Room I can tell and therefore if he must needs spit, I pray desire him to spit i'th' Chimney.  Pie. 
Why assure you Sir Godfrey, he shall not be brought up, with so little manners to spit and spawl a'th' floor.  Sir Godf. 
Why I thank you good Captain, pray have a care. ay, fall to your Circle, we'll not trouble you I warrant you, come, we'll in to the next Room, & because we'll be sure to keep him out there, we'll bar up the door with some of the Godlies zealous works.  Edm. 
That will be a fine device Nuncle, and because the ground shall be as holy as the door, I'll tear two or three rosaries in pieces, and strew the leaves about the Chamber? oh, the devil already,— runs in—  Thunders. Py. 
'sfoot Captain speak somewhat for shame; it lightens & thunders before thou wilt begin, why when?  Cap. 
Pray peace George,— thou'lt make me laugh anon; and spoil all.  Pie. 
Oh now it begins again, now, now? now? Captain?  Cap. 
Rumbos-ragdayon, pur, pur, colucundrion, Hois— Plois.  Sir Godf. 
Oh admirable conjuror? has fetched Thunder already:  Sir Godfrey through the keyhole? within. Pie. 
Hark hark again Captain?  Cap. 
Beniamino,— gaspois— kay— gosgothoteron— umbrois.  Sir Godf. 
Oh, I would the devil would come away quickly, he has no conscience to put a man to such pain?  Pie. 
Again!  Cap. 
Flowste— Kakopumpos— dragon— Leloomenos— hodge— podge.  Pie. 
Well said Captain.  Sir Godf. 
So long a coming? oh would I had near begun't now, for I fear me these roaring tempests, will destroy all the fruits of the earth, and tread upon my corn— oh, i'th' Country.  Cap. 
Gog de gog, hobgoblin, hunks, houseslow, hockley te come park.  Wid. 
O brother, brother, what a tempest's i'th', Garden, sure there's some conjuration abroad.  Sir Godf. 
'tis at home sister!  Pie. 
By and by, I'll step in? Captain?  Cap. 
Nunck— Nunck— Rip— Gascoynes, Ipis, Drip— Dropite.  Sir God. 
He drips and drops poor man? alas, alas.  Pie. 
Now I come?  Cap. 
O sulphur Scoteface—  Pie 
Arch-conjurer, what wouldst thou with me?  Sir Godf. 
O the devil sister, i'th' dining Chamber, sing Sister,  
I warrant you that will keep him out, quickly, quickly, quickly. goes in.  Pie. 
So, so, so, I'll release thee, enough Captain, enough, allow us some time to laugh a little, they're shuddering and shaking by this time, as if an Earthquake were in their kidneys.  Cap. 
Sirrah George, how was't, how was't, did I do't well enough.  Pit. 
wilt believe me Captain, better than any conjuror, for here was no harm in this, and yet their horrible expectation satisfied well, you were much beholding to thunder & lightning at this time it graced you well I can tell you?  Cap. 
I must needs say so George? sirrah if we could ha' convoyed hither cleanly a cracker or a fire-wheel t'had been admittable.  Pit. 
Blurt, blurt their's nothing remains to put thee to pain now Captain.  Cap. 
Pain? I protest George my heels are sorer, than a Whitsun Morris-dancer.  Pie. 
All's past now,— only to reveal that the chain's i'th'  
Garden where thou know'st it has lain these two days.  Cap. 
But I fear that fox Nicholas has revealed it already?  Pie. 
Fear not Captain, you must put it toth' venture now  
Nay 'tis time, call upon 'em, take pity on 'em, for I believe  
some of 'em are in a pitiful case by this time.  Cap. 
Sir Godfrey? Nicholas, Kinsman-Sfoot they're fast at it still George, Sir Godfrey?  Sir Godf. 
Oh, is that the devils voice? how comes he to know my name.  Cap. 
Fear not Sir Godfrey all's quieted.  Sir Godf. 
What is he laid?  Cap. 
laid; and has newly dropped, Your chain i'th' Garden.  Sir Godf. 
Ith' Garden! in our Garden?  Cap. 
Your Garden?  Sir Godf. 
O sweet conjuror? whereabouts there?  Cap. 
Look-well about a bank of Rosemary.  Sir Godf. 
Sister the Rosemary bank, come, come, there's my chain he says.  Wid. 
Oh happiness, run, run.  Edn. 
Captain conjuror?  supposed to go. Edm at keyhole. Cap. 
Who? Master Edmond.  Edm. 
ay Master Edmond may I come in safely, without danger think you.  Cap. 
Fuh long ago, 'tis all, as 'twas at first.  
Fear nothing, pray come near— how now? man.  Edm. 
Oh this Rooms mightily hot i'faith, slid my shirt sticks to my Belly already, what a steam the Rogue has left be hind him ?foh this room must be aired Gentlemen it smells horribly of Brimstone— let's open the windows.  pie 
'faith master Edmond 'tis but your conceit,  Edm. 
I would you could make me believe that i'faith why do you think I cannot smell his savour, from another: yet I take it kindly from you, because you would not put me in a fear i'faith, o' my troth I shall love you for this the longest day of my life.  Cap. 
Puh, 'tis nothing sir, love me when you see more.  Edm. 
Mass now I remember I'll look whether he has singed the hangings or no.  Pye. 
Captain, to entertain a little sport till they come; make him believe, you'll charm him invisible, has apt to admire any thing you see let me alone to give force to't't.  Cap. 
go, retire, to yonder end then.  Edm. 
I protest you are a rare fellow, are you not.  Cap. 
O master Edmond, you know but the least part of me yet, why now at this instant I could but flourish my wand thrice o'er your head, and charm you invisible.  Edm. 
What you could not? make me walk invisible man; I should laugh at that i'faith, troth i'll requite your kindness and you'll do't good Captain conjuror.  Cap. 
Nay I should hardly deny you such a small kindness Master Edmond Plus, why look you sir 'tis no more but this and thus and again and now you're invisible!  Edm. 
Am i'faith, who would think it.  Cap. 
You see the fortune-teller yonder at farther end ath chamber go toward him, do what you will with him he shall near find you.  Edm. 
Say you so, i'll try that i'faith,—  justles him. PIe. 
How now? Captain, whose's that justled me?  Cap. 
justled you? I saw nobody.  Edm. 
Ha, ha, ha,— say 'twas a spirit,  Cap. 
Shall I?— may be some spirit that haunts the circle.  Pye. 
O my nose, again, pray conjure then Captain.  pulls him by the Nose. Edm. 
Troth this is exc'llent, I may do any knavery now and never be seen, and now I remember me, Sir Godfrey my Uncle abused me other day, & told tales of me to my Mother— Troth now I'm invisible, i'll hit him a sound wherrit o'th' ear, when he comes out o'th' garden,— I may be revenged on him now finely.  Enter Sir Godfrey, Widow, Frank, Nicholas with the Chain. Sir God. 
I have my Chain again, my chain's found again,  
O sweet Captain, O admirable conjuror. Edm. Strikes him.  
Oh what mean you by that Nephew?  Edm. 
Nephew? I hope you do not know me Uncle?  Wid. 
Why did you strike your Uncle sir?  Edm. 
Why Captain am I not invisible?  Capt. 
A good jest George,— not now you are not Sir,  
Why did you not see me when I did uncharm you?  Edm. 
Not I by my troth Captain:  
Then pray you pardon me Uncle,  
I thought I'd been invisible when I struck you.  Sir Godf. 
So. you would do't? go,— you're a foolish Boy,  
And were I not o'ercome with greater joy,  
I'd make you taste correction.  Edm. 
Correction, push— no, neither you nor my Mother shall think to whip me as you have done.  Sir Godf. 
Captain my joy is such, I know not how to thank you, let me embrace you, hug you, O my sweet Chain, Gladness e'en makes me giddy, rare man: 'twas as just i'th' Rosemary bank, as if one should ha' laid it there— oh cunning, cunning!  Wid. 
Well, seeing my fortune tells me I must marry; let me marry a man of wit a man of parts, here's a worthy Captain, and 'tis a fine Title truly la to be a captains Wife, a captains Wife, it goes very finely. beside all the world knows that a worthy Captain, is a fit Companion to any Lord, then why not a sweet bedfellow for any Lady.— I'll have it so—  Enter Frailty. Frail. 
O Mistress, Gentlemen, there's the bravest sight coming along this way.  Wid. 
What brave sight?  Frai. 
Oh, one going to burying, & another going to hanging.  Wid. 
A rueful sight.  Pyb 
'sfoot Captain, I'll pawn my life the Corporal's coffined, and old Skirmish the soldier going to execution, & 'tis now full about the time of his walking; hold out a little longer sleepy potion, and we shall have exc'llent admiration; for I'll take upon me the cure of him.  Enter the Coffin of the Corporal, the soldier bound, and led by Officers, the Sheriff there. Frail. 
Oh here they come, here they come!  Pyb. 
Now must I close secretly with the Soldier, prevent his impatience, or else all's discovered?  Wid. 
O lamentable seeing, these were those Brothers, that fought and bled before our door.  Sir Godf. 
What they were not Sister?  Skirm. 
George, look to't, I'll peach at Tyburn else.  Pyb. 
Mum,— Gentles all, vouchsafe me audience, and you especially Master Sheriff:  
Yond man is bound to execution,  
Because he wounded this that now lies coffined?  Shir. 
True, true, he shall have the law,— and I know the law?  Pyb. 
But under favour Master Sheriff, if this man had been cured and safe again, he should have been released then?  Shir. 
Why make you question of that Sir?  Pyb. 
Then I release him freely, and will take upon me the death that he should die, if within a little season, I do not cure him to his proper health again.  Shir. 
How Sir? recover a dead man?  
That were most strange of all.  Frank comes to him. Frank. 
Sweet Sir, I love you dearly, and could wish my best part yours,— oh do not undertake such an impossible venture.  Pyb. 
Love you me; then for your sweet sake I'll do't:  
Let me entreat the corpse to be set down.  Shir. 
Bearers set down the Coffin,— this were wonderful, and worthy Stow's Chronicle.  Pyb. 
I pray bestow the freedom of the air, upon our wholesome Art,— mass, his cheeks begin to receive natural warmth: nay good Corporal wake betime, or I shall have a longer sleep than you,— 'sfoot if he should prove dead indeed now, he were fully revenged upon me for making a property on him, yet I had rather run upon the Ropes, then have the Rope like a Tetter run upon me, oh— he stirs— he stirs again— look Gentlemen, he recovers, he starts, he rises.  Shir. 
Oh, oh, defend us— out alas.  Pyb. 
Nay pray be still; you'll make him more giddy else,— he knows nobody yet.  Corp. 
zounds: who am I? covered with Snow? I marvel?  Pyb. 
Nay I knew he would swear the first thing he did, as soon as ever he came to his life again.  Corp. 
'sfoot Hostess— some hot Porridge,— oh, oh, lay on a dozen of Faggots in the Moon parlour, there.  Pyb. 
Lady, you must needs take a little pity of him i'faith, and send him in to your Kitchen fire.  Wid. 
Oh, with all my heart sir, Nicholas and Frailty, help to bear him in.  Nich. 
Bear him in, quotha, pray call out the Maids, I shall near have the heart to do't indeed la.  Frai. 
Not I neither, I cannot abide to handle a Ghost of all men.  Cor. 
'sblood, let me see, where was I drunk last night, heh—  Wid. 
Oh, shall I bid you once again take him away.  Frai. 
Why, we're as fearful as you I warrant you— oh—  Wid. 
Away villains, bid the Maids make him a caudle presently to settle his brain,— or a Posset of Sack, quickly, quickly.  Exeunt, pushing in the corpse. Skir. 
Sir, whatsoe'er you are, I do more than admire you.  Wid. 
O ay, if you knew all Master Sheriff, as you shall do, you would say then, that here were two of the rarest men within the walls of Christendom  Shir. 
Two of'em, O wonderful: Officers I discharge you, set him free all's in tune.  Sir Godf. 
ay and a banquet ready by this time Master Sheriff, to which I most cheerfully invite you, and your late prisoner there? see you this goodly chain sir, mum, no more words, 'twas lost, and is found again; come my inestimable bullies, we'll talk of your noble Acts in sparkling Charnico, and in stead of a jester, we'll ha' the ghost i'th' white sheet sit at upper end a'th' Table.  Sheriff. 
exc'llent merry man i'faith.  Exit. Frank 
Well, seeing I am enjoined to love and marry.  
My foolish vow thus I cashier to Air  
Which first begot it,— now love play thy part;  
The scholar reads his lecture in my heart.   

Actus 5. Scen. 1.  Enter in haste Master Edmund and Frailty. Ed. 
This is the marriage morning for my mother & my sister.  Frail. 
O me Master Edmund we shall ha' rare doings.  Ed. 
Nay go Frailty run to the Sexton, you know my mother willbe married at Saint Antling's, hie thee, 'tis past five, bid them open the Church door, my sister is almost ready.  Fra. 
What already Master Edmond.  Ed. 
Nay go hie thee first run to the Sexton, and run to the clerk and then run to Master Pigman the Parson, and then run to the Milliner, and then run home again.  Frail. 
here's run, run, run—  Ed. 
But hark Frailty:  Fra. 
What more yet?  Edm. 
Has the maids remembered to strew the way to the Church.  Frail. 
Faugh an hour ago I helped 'em myself.  Ed. 
Away, away, away, away then.  Frail. 
Away, away, away then  Exit Frailty: Edm. 
I shall have a simple Father in-law, a brave Captain able to beat all our street: Captain Idle, now my Lady Mother willbe fit for a delicate name, my Lady Idle, my Lady Idle, the finest name that can be for a woman, and then the Scholar Master pie-board for my sister Francis, that willbe Mistress Francis pie-board, Mistress Francis Pie-boord, they'll keep a good table I warrant you, Now all the knights' noses are put out of joint, they may go to a bonesetter's now. Enter Captain and Pie-boord .Hark, hark oh who comes here with two Torches before 'em, my sweet Captain, and my fine Scholar, oh, how bravely they are shot up in one night, they look like fine Britons now methinks, here's a gallant change i'faith 'slid they have hired men and all by the clock.  Cap. 
Master Edmond, kind, honest, dainty Master Edmond.  Edm. 
Faugh, sweet Captain Father in-law a rare perfume i'faith.  Pie. 
What are the Brides stirring? may we steal upon 'em thinkst thou Master Edmond.  Edm. 
Faugh, there e'en upon readiness I can assure you? for they were at their Torch e'en now, by the same token I tumbled down the stairs.  Pie. 
Alas poor Master Edmond.  Enter musicans. Cap. 
O the musicans I pray thee Master Edmond call 'em in and liquor 'em a little.  Ed. 
That I will sweet Captain father in law and make each of them as drunk as a common fiddler.  Exeunt omnes. Enter Sir john Penidub, and Moll above lacing of her clothes. Pen. 
Whewh Mistress Moll, Mistress Moll.  Mol. 
Who's there?  Pen. 'tis I Mol. 
Who Sir john Penidub O you're an early cock i'faith, who would have thought you to be so rare a stirrer.  Pen. 
Prithee Moll let me come up.  Mol. 
No by my faith Sir john, I'll keep you down, for you Knights are very dangerous if once you get above.  Pen. 
I'll not stay i'faith.  Mol. 
i'faith you shall stay, for Sir john you must note the nature of the Climates your Northern wench in her own Country may well hold out till she be fifteen, but if she touch the South once, and up to London, here the Chimes go presently after twelve.  Pen. 
O th' art a mad wench Moll, but I pray thee make haste, for the Priest is gone before.  Moll. 
Do you follow him, I'll not be long after.  Exeunt. Enter Sir Oliver Muckhill, Sir Andrew Tipstaff, and old Skirmish talking. Muck. 
O monstrous unheard of forgery.  Tip. 
Knight, I never heard of such villainy in our own country, in my life.  Muck. 
Why 'tis impossible, dare you maintain your words?  Skir. 
Dare we? e'en to their weazen pipe;, we know all their plots, they cannot squander with us, they have knavishly abused us, made only properties on's to advance their selves upon our shoulders, but they shall rue their abuses, this morning they are to be married.  Muck. 
'tis too true, yet if the Widow be not too much besotted on slights and forgeries, the revelation of their villainies will make 'em loathsome, and to that end, be it in private to you, I sent late last night to an honourable parsonage, to whom I am much indebted in kindness, as he is to me, and therefore presume upon the payment of his tongue, and that he will lay out good words for me, and to speak truth, for such needful occasions, I only preserve him in bond, and sometimes he may do me more good here in the City by a free word of his mouth, than if he had paid one half in hand, and took Doomsday for t' other.  Tip. 
In troth Sir, without soothing be it spoken, you have published much judgement in these few words.  Muck. 
For you know, what such a man utters will be thought effectual and to weighty purpose, and therefore into his mouth we'll put the approved theme of their forgeries.  Skir. 
And I'll maintain it Knight, if she'll be true.  Enter a servant. Muck. 
How now fellow.  Seru. 
May it please you Sir, my Lord is newly lighted from his coach.  Muc. 
Is my Lord come already; his honour's early,  
You see he loves me well up before seven,  
Trust me I have found him night-capped at eleven,  
there's good hope yet; come I'll relate all to him.  Exeunt. Enter the two bridegrooms Captain and Scholar after them, Sir Godfrey and Edmond, Widow changed in apparel, mistress Francis led between two Knights, Sir john Pennydub and Moll: 
there meets them a Noble man, Sir Oliver Muckil, and Sir Andrew Tipstaff.  Nob. 
By your leave Lady.  Wid. 
My Lord your honour is most chastened welcome,  Nob. 
Madam though I came now from court, I come not to flatter you: upon whom can I justly cast this blot, but upon your own forehead, that know not ink from milk such is the blind besotting in the state of an unheaded woman that's a widow. For it is the property of all you that are widows (a hand full excepted) to hate those that honestly and carefully love you, to the maintenance of credit state and posterity, and strongly to dote on those, that only love you to undo you who regard you least are best regarded, who hate you most are best beloved, And if there be but one man amongst ten thousand millions of men that is accursed disastrous and evilly planeted whom Fortune beats most, whom God hates most, and all Societies esteem least, that man is sure to be a husband— Such is the peevish Moon that rules your bloods. An Impudent fellow best wooes you, a flattering lip best wins you, or in a mirth who talks roughliest is most sweetest, nor can you distinguish truth, from forgeries, mists from Simplicity, witness those two deceitful monsters that you have entertained for bridegrooms.  Wid. 
Deceitful.  Pie. 
All will out.  Cap. 
'sfoot who has blabbed George? that foolish Nicholas.  Nob. 
For what they have besotted your easy blood withal, wear nought but forgeries, the fortune telling for husbands, the conjuring for the chain, Sir Godfrey heard the falsehood of all: nothing but mere knavery deceit and cozenage.  Wid. 
O wonderful, indeed I wondered that my husband with all his craft could nor keep himself out of purgatory.  Sir Godf. 
And I more wondered that my chain should be gone and my tailor had none of it.  Mol. 
And I wondered most of all that I, should be tied from marriage having such a mind to't, come S. john Pennydub, fair wether on our side the moon has changed since yesternight.  Pie. 
The Sting of every evil is within me.  Nob. 
And that you may perceive I feign not with you, behold their fellow actor in those forgeries who full of Spleen and envy at their so sudden advancements revealed all their plot in anger.  Pie. 
Base Soldier to reveal us.  Wid. 
be't possible we should be blinded so and our eyes open  Nob. 
Widow will you now believe that false, which too soon you believed true.  Wid. 
O to my shame I do.  Sir Godf. 
But under favour my Lord my chain was truly lost and strangely found again.  Nob. 
Resolve him of that Soldier,  Sir. 
In few words Knight then, thou wert the arch-gull of all.  Sir Godf. 
How Sir.  Skir. 
Nay i'll prove it: for the chain was but hid in the rosemary bank all this while, and thou got'st him out of prison to Conjure for it who did it admirably fustianly, for indeed what need any others when he knew where it was.  Sir Godf. 
O villainy of villainies, but how came my chain there  Skir, 
Where's truly la, in deed la, he that will not swear, but lie, he that will not steal, But rob: pure Nicholas Saint Antling's.  Sir Godf. 
O Villain one of our society,  
Deemed always holy, pure, religious,  
A Puritan? a thief, when was't ever heard?  
Sooner we'll kill a man than Steal thou know'st,  
Out slave I'll rend my lien from thy back— with mine own hands.  Nich. 
Dear Master, oh.  Nob. 
Nay Knight dwell in patience,  
And now widow being so near the Church, 'twere great pity, nay uncharity to send you home again without a husband, draw nearer you of true worship, state and credit, that should not stand so far off from a widow, and suffer forged shapes to come between you, Not that in these, I blemish the true Title of a Captain, or blot the fair margin of a Scholar; For I honour worthy and deserving parts in the one, and cherish fruitful Virtues in the other. Come Lady, and you Virgin bestow your eyes and your purest affections, upon men of estimation both in Court and City, that hath long wooed you, and both with their hearts and wealth sincerely love you.  Sir Godf. 
Good Sister do: Sweet little Frank, these are men of reputation, you shallbe welcome at Court: a great credit for a Citizen sweet Sister.  Nob. 
Come her silence does consent to't.  Wid. 
I know not with what face,  Nob. 
Pah pah why with your own face they desire no other.  Wid. 
Pardon me worthy Sirs, I and my daughter have wronged your loves.  Muck. 
'tis easily pardoned Lady,  
If you vouchsafe it now.  Wid. 
With all my soul,  Fran. 
And I with all my heart,  Moll. 
And I Sir john with soul, heart, lights and all.  Sir Ioh. 
They are all mine Moll.  Nob. 
Now Lady?  
What honest Spirit but will applaud your choice,  
And gladly furnish you with hand and voice,  
A happy change which makes e'en heaven rejoice,  
Come enter into your joys, you shall not want,  
For fathers now, I doubt it not believe me,  
But that you shall have hands enough to give.  Exeunt omnes. 
Deus dedit his quoque finem  
FINIS.