PYE. Love you me? then for your sweet sake I'll doo't: Let me entreat the corpse to be set down.

SHERIFF. Bearers, set down the Coffin.—This were wonderful, and worthy Stoes Chronicle.

PYE. 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 then 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.

SHERIFF. Oh, oh, defend us!—out, alas.

PYE. Nay, pray be still; you'll make him more giddy else:—he knows no body yet.

CORPORAL. Zounes: where am I? covered with Snow? I marvel.

PYE. Nay, I knew he would swear the first thing he did, as soon as ever he came to life again.

CORPORAL. Sfoot, Hostess, some hot Porridge,—oh, oh, lay on a dozen of Fagots in the Moon parlor, there.

PYE. Lady, you must needs take a little pity of him, yfaith, and send him in to your Kitchen fire.

WIDOW. Oh, with all my heart, sir. Nicholas and Frailty, help to bear him in.

NICHOLAS. Bear him in, quatha? pray call out the Maids, I shall ne'er have the heart to doo't, indeed la.

FRAILTY. Nor I neither, I cannot abide to handle a Ghost of all men.

CORPORAL. Sblood, let me see: where was I drunk last night, heh—

WIDOW. Oh, shall I bid you once again take him away?

FRAILTY. Why, we're as fearful as you, I warrant you—oh—

WIDOW. Away, villains; bid the Maids make him a Cawdle presently to settle his brain,—or a Posset of Sack; quickly, quickly.

[Exeunt Frailty and Nicholas, pushing in the corpses.]

SHERIFF. Sir, what so ere you are, I do more then admire you.

WIDOW. O, aye, 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 Christendome.

SHERIFF. Two of 'em? O wonderful. Officers, I discharge you, set him free, all's in tune.

SIR GODFREY. Aye, 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? mun, 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 ith white sheet sit at upper end a'th Table.

SHERIFF. Exlent merry, man, yfaith.

[Exeunt all but Frances.]

FRANCES. 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.

[Exit.]

ACTUS 5

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

[Enter in haste Master Edmond and Frailty.]

EDMOND. This is the marriage morning for my mother and my sister.

FRAILTY. O me, Master Edmund; we shall ha rare doings.

EDMOND. Nay, go, Frailty, run to the Sexton; you know my mother will be married at Saint Antlings. Hie thee, tis past five; bid them open the Church door; my sister is almost ready.

FRAILTY. What, all ready, Master Edmond?

EDMOND. Nay, go, hie thee: first run to the Sexton, and run to the Clarke, and then run to Master Pigman the Parson, and then run to the Milliner, and then run home again.

FRAILTY. Here's run, run, run—

EDMOND. But hark, Frailty.

FRAILTY. What, more yet?

EDMOND. Has the maids remembered to strew the way to the Church.

FRAILTY. Fagh, an hour ago; I helpt 'em my self.

EDMOND. Away, away, away, away then.

FRAILTY. Away, away, away then.

[Exit Frailty.]

EDMOND. I shall have a simple Father inlaw, a brave Captain able to beat all our street: Captain Idle. Now my Lady Mother will be fitted for a delicate name: my Lady Idle, my Lady Idle, the finest name that can be for a woman; and then the Scholar, Master Pye-board, for my sister Frances, that will be Mistress Frances Pye-board.—Mistress Frances Pye-board! they'll keep a good table I warrant you. Now all the knights' noses are put out of joint; they may go to a bone setters now.

[Enter Captain and Pye-board.]

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 Brittains now, me thinks. Here's a gallant change, ifaith: slid, they have hir'd men and all by the clock.

CAPTAIN. Master Edmond, kind, honest, dainty Master Edmond.

EDMOND. Fogh, sweet Captain Father inlaw, a rare perfume, ifaith.

PYE. What, are the Brides stirring? may we steal upon 'em, thinkst thou, Master Edmond?

EDMOND. Faw, 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.

PYE. Alas, poor Master Edmond.

[Enter musicians.]

CAPTAIN. O, the musicians! I pray thee, Master Edmond, call 'em in and liquor 'em a little.

EDMOND. That I will, sweet Captain father in law, and make each of them as drunk as a common fiddler.

[Exeunt omnes.]

SCENE II. The same.

[Enter Sir John Pennydub, and Moll above lacing of her clothes.]

PENNYDUB. Whewh, Mistress Moll, Mistress Moll.

MOLL. Who's there?

PENNYDUB. Tis I.

MOLL. Who? Sir John Pennydub? O you're an early cock, ifaith: who would have thought you to be so rare a stirrer?

PENNYDUB. Preethe, Moll, let me come up.

MOLL. No, by my faith, Sir John, I'll keep you down, for you Knights are very dangerous in once you get above.

PENNYDUB. I'll not stay, ifaith.

MOLL. Ifaith, 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 come up to London, here the Chimes go presently after twelve.

PENNYDUB. O th'art a mad wench, Moll, but I pree thee make haste, for the priest is gone before.

MOLL. Do you follow him, I'll not be long after.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. A room in Sir Oliver Muckhill's house.

[Enter Sir Oliver Muckhill, Sir Andrew Tipstaff, and old Skirmish talking.]

MUCK. O monstrous, un-heard of forgery.

TIP. Knight, I never heard of such villainy in our own country in my life.

MUCH. Why, 'tis impossible; dare you maintain your words?

SKIRMISH. Dare we? een to their wezen pipes. 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 Widdow 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 honorable personage, 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 some-times he may do me more good here in the City by a free word of his mouth, then if he had paid one half in hand, and took Doomesday for t'other.

TIP. In troth, Sir, without soothing be it spoken, you have publisht much judgment in these few words.

MUCK. For you know, what such a man utters will be though effectual and to weighty purpose, and therefore into his mouth we'll put the approved theme of their forgeries.

SKIRMISH. And I'll maintain it, Knight, if ye'll be true.

[Enter a servant.]

MUCK. How now, fellow?

SERVANT. May it please you, Sir, my Lord is newly lighted from his Coach.

MUCK. Is my Lord come already? His honor's early. You see he loves me well: up before seven! Trust me, I have found his night capt at eleven. There's good hope yet; come, I'll relate all to him.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE IV. A street; a church appearing.

[Enter the two Bridegrooms, Captain and Scholar; after them, Sir Godfrey and Edmond, Widdow changed in apparel, Mistress Frances led between two Knights, Sir John Pennydub and Moll: there meets them a Noble man, Sir Oliver Muckhill, and Sir Andrew Tipstaff.]

NOBLE. By your leave, Lady.

WIDOW. My Lord, your honour is most chastely welcome.

NOBLE. Madam, tho I came now from court, I come 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 widdow. For it is the property of all you that are widdowes (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 accurst, 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 woes 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 entertaind for bride-grooms.

WIDOW. Deceitful!

PYE. All will out.

CAPTAIN. Sfoot, who has blabd, George? that foolish Nicholas?

NOBLE. For what they have besotted your easy blood withall wear nought but forgeries: the fortune telling for husbands, the conjuring for the chain Sir Godfrey heard the falshod of: all mere knavery, deceit, and coozenage.

WIDOW. O wonderful! Indeed I wondred that my husband with all his Craft could not keep himself out of purgatory.

SIR GODFREY. And I more wonder that my chain should be gone and my Tailor had none of it.

MOLL. And I wondred most of all that I should be tied from marriage, having such a mind too't. Come, Sir John Pennydub, fair weather on our side; the moon has changed since yester night.

PYE. The Sting of every evil is with-in me.

NOBLE. And that you may perceive I fain 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.

PYE. Base Soldier, to reveal us/

WIDOW. Ist possible we should be blinded so, and our eye open?

NOBLE. Widdow, will you now believe that false, which too soon you believed true?

WIDOW. O, to my shame I do.

SIR GODFREY. But under favour, my Lord, my chain was truly lost and strangely found again.

NOBLE. Resolve him of that, Soldier.

SKIRMISH. In few words, Knight, then, thou were the arch-gull of all.

SIR GODFREY. How, Sir?

SKIRMISH. Nay, I'll prove it: for the chain was but hid in the rosemary bank all this while, and thou gotst 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 GODFREY. O villainy of villainies! But how came my chain there?

SKIRMISH. Where's truly la, in deed la, he that will not swear, but lie, He that will not steal, But rob: pure Nicholas Saint Antlings?

SIR GODFREY. O Villain! one of our society, Deemd always holy, pure, religious. A Puritan a thief, when wast ever heard? Sooner we'll kill a man then Steal, thou knowst. Out, slave! I'll rend my lion from thy back With mine own hands.

NICHOLAS. Dear Master, oh.

NOBLE. Nay, Knight, dwell in patience. And now, widdow, being so near the Church, twer 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 widdow, and suffer forged shapes to come between you. Not that in these I blemish the true Title of a Captain, or blot the fair margent of a Scholar; For I honor worthy and deserving parts in the one, and cherish fruitful Vertues 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 there hearts and wealth sincerely love you.

SIR GODFREY. Good Sister, do: Sweet little Franke, these are men of reputation; you shall be welcome at Court: a great credit for a Citizen, sweet Sister.

NOBLE. Come, her silence does consent too't.

WIDDOW. I know not with what face—

NOBLE. Pah, pah! why, with your own face; they desire no other.

WIDDOW. Pardon me, worthy Sirs; I and my daughter have wrongd your loves.

MUCK. Tis easily pardon'd, Lady, If you vouchsafe it now.

WIDDOW. With all my soul.

FRANCES. And I with all my heart.

MOLL. And I, Sir John, with soul, heart, lights and all.

SIR JOHN. They are all mine, Moll.

NOBLE. 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 ye.

[Exeunt omnes.]

Deus dedit his quoque finem.

FINIS