Actus Quintus.
Enter in haste Master Edmond and Frailty.
Edm.
This is the Marriage morning for my Mother
and my Sister.
Frail.
O me, Master Edmond, we shall have rare doings.
Edm.
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.
Fra.
What already, Master Edmond?
Edm.
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
agen.
Frail.
Here's run, run, run—
Ed.
But hark, Frailty.
Fra.
What, more yet?
Edm.
Has the Maids remembred to strew the way to
the Church.
Fra.
Foh, an hour ago I helpt 'em my self.
Ed.
Away, away, away, away then.
Frail.
Away, 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 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 Schollar, Master Pye-boord for
my Sister Frances, that will be Mistresse Frances Pye-boord,
Mistresse Frances Pye-boord, they'll keep a good
Table I warrant you: Now all the Knights noses are put
out of joynt, they may go to a Bone-setters now.
Enter Captain and Pye-boord.
Hark, hark; oh who comes here with two Torches before
'em, my sweet Captain, and my fine Schollar? oh how
bravely they are shot up in one night, they look like fine
Britains now me thinks, here's a gallant change ifaith;
'slid, they have hir'd men and all by the Clock.
Cap.
Master Edmond, kind, honest, dainty Master
Edmond.
Edm.
Poh, sweet Ceptain Father-in-law, a rare perfume
ifaith.
Pye.
What, are the Brides stirring? may we steall upon
'em think'st thou, Master Edmond?
Edm.
Faw, their e'ne upon readinesse I can assure
you: for they were at their Torch e'ne now, by the same
token I tumbled down the staires.
Pye.
Alass, poor Master Edmond.
Enter Musicians.
Cap.
O, the Musicians! I prethee, Master Edmond,
call 'em in and liquor 'em a little.
Edm.
That I will, sweet Captain Father-in-law, and
make each of them as drunk as a common Fidler.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Sir John Penny-Dub, and Moll above lacing of her cloathes.
Pen.
Whewh, Mistresse Moll, Mistresse Moll.
Moll.
Who's there?
Pen.
'Tis I.
Moll.
Who, Sir John Penny-Dub? O you're an early
Cock ifaith, who would have thought you to be so rare a
stirrer?
Pen.
Prethee, Moll, let me come up.
Moll.
No by my faith Sir John, I'le keep you down,
for you Knights are very dangerous if once you get above.
Pen.
I'le not stay ifaith.
Mol.
Ifaith you shall stay: for, Sir John, you must
note the nature of the Climates: your Northern Wench
in her own Countrey 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.
Pen.
O th'art a mad Wench, Moll, but I prethee
make haste, for the Priest is gone before.
Moll.
Do you follow him, I'le not be long after.
Exeunt.
Enter Sir Oliver Muck-hill, Sir Andrew Tipstaffe, and old Skirmish talking.
Muck.
O monstrous unheard of forgery.
Tip.
Knight, I never heard of such villany in our own
Countrey, in my life.
Muck.
Why 'tis impossible. dare you maintain your
words?
Skir.
Dare we? e'ne to their wezen pipes: we know
all their plots, they cannot squander with us, they have
knavishly abus'd us, made onely 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 villanies will make 'em loathsome, and to that end,
be it in private to you, I sent late last night to an honourable
personage, to whom I am much indebted in
kindnesse, 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 needfull occasions,
I onely preserve him in bond, and sometimes he
may doe 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 tother.
Tip.
Introth, sir, without soothing be it spoken, you
have publisht much judgement in these few words.
Muck.
For you know, what such a man utters will
be thought effectuall; and to weighty purpose, and therefore
into his mouth we'll put the approved theame of
their forgeries.
Skir.
And I'le maintain it, Knight, if she'll be true.
-- 73 --
Enter a Servant.
Muck.
How now, fellow.
Serv.
May it please you, sir, my Lord is newly lighted
from his Coach.
Muck.
Is my Lord come already? his honour's early:
You see he loves me well; up before heaven,
Trust me, I have found him night-capt at eleven:
There's good hope yet: come, I'le relate all to him.
Exeunt.
Enter the two Bridegrooms, Captain and Scholar after
them, Sir Godfrey and Edmond, Widow changed in apparel,
Mistress Frances led between two Knights, Sir
John Penny-dub and Moll: there meets them a Noble
man, Sir Oliver Muck-hill, and Sir Andrew Tip-staff.
Nob.
By your leave, Lady.
Wid.
My Lord, your honour is most chastly 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 handfull excepted) to hate
those that honestly and carefully love you, to the
maintenance of credit, state, and posterity, and strongly
to doat on those, that onely love you to undoe 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 blouds. An impudent fellow best woos you, a
flattering lip best wins you, or in mirth, who talks roughliest,
is most sweetest; nor can you distinguish truth from
forgeries, mists from simplicity: witness those two deceitfull
Monsters, that you have entertain'd for Bride-grooms.
Wid.
Deceitfull—
Pye.
All will out.
Cap.
Sfoot, who has blab'd, George? that foolish Nicholas.
Nob.
For, what they have besotted your easie bloud
withall, were nought but forgeries, the Fortune-telling
for Husbands, and the Conjuring for the Chain; Sir
Godfrey heard the falshood of all: nothing but meer
knavery, deceit, and cozenage.
Wid.
O wonderfull! indeed I wondred that my Husband
with all his craft, could not keep himself out of
Purgatory:
Sir Godf.
And I more wonder, that my Chain should
be gon, and my Taylor had none of it.
Moll.
And I wondred most of all, that I should be
tyed from Marriage, having such a mind to't: come Sir
John Penny-dub, fair weather on our side, the Moon has
chang'd since yesternight.
Pye.
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, ravel'd
all their Plot in anger.
Pye.
Base Souldier, to reveal us.
Wid.
Is'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, Souldier.
Skir.
In few words, Knight, then thou wert the arch-Gull
of all.
Sir Godf.
How, Sir?
Skir.
Nay I'le prove it: for the Chain was but hid
in the Rosemary-banck all this while, and thou gotst
him out of prison to Conjure for it, who did it admirably
fustianly, for indeed what needed any others, when he
knew where it was?
Sir Godf.
O villany of villains! but how came my
Chain there?
Skir.
Where's, Truly la, Indeed la? he that will not
Swear, but Lye; he that will not Steal, but Rob: pure
Nicholas Saint Antlings.
Sir Godf.
O villain! one of our Society,
Deem'd alwayes holy, pure, religious:
A Puritan, a thief? when was't ever heard?
Soon we'll kill a man, then Steal, thou know'st.
Out Slave, I'le rend my Lyon 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 pitty, nay uncharit; to send you home again without
a Husband: draw near, 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 margent of a Scholar: for I honour worthy and
deserving parts in the one, and cherish fruitfull 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 have 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 shall be welcome at Court: a
great credit for a Citizen, sweet sister.
Nob.
Come, her silence do's consent to't.
Wid.
I know not with what face.
Nob.
Pah, pah, with your own face, they desire no other.
Wid.
Pardon me, worthy Sirs, I and my daughter have
wrong'd your loves.
Muck.
'Tis easily pardon'd, 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 Godf.
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 in your Joyes, you shall not want,
For, fathers, now I doubt it not, believe me,
But that you shall have hands enough to give me.
Exeunt omnes.
