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.
Frail.
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 again.
-- 3239 --
Frail.
Here's run, run, run—
Edm.
But hark, Frailty.
Frail.
What, more yet?
Edm.
Have the Maids remembred to strew the way to the
Church.
Frail.
Foh, an hour ago I help'd 'em my self.
Edm.
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 Scholar, Master Pye-boord for my Sister Frances, that
will be Mistress Frances Pye-boord, Mistress Frances Pye-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 Bone-setters
now.
Enter Captain, and Pye-boord.
Hark, hark; O who comes here with two Torches before 'em,
my sweet Captain, and my fine Scholar? O how bravely
they are shot up in one Night, they look like fine Britains
now methinks, here's a gallant change i'faith; 'slid, they
have hir'd Men and all by the Clock.
Capt.
Master Edmond, kind, honest, dainty Master Edmond.
Edm.
Foh, sweet Captain Father-in-law, a rare perfume
i'faith.
Pye.
What, are the Brides stirring? may we steal upon 'em,
think'st thou, Master Edmond?
Edm.
Faw, they're 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.
Capt.
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.
-- 3240 --
Enter Sir John Penny-Dub, and Moll above lacing of her Cloaths.
Dub.
Whewh, Mistress Moll, Mistress Moll.
Moll.
Who's there?
Dub.
'Tis I.
Moll.
Who, Sir John Penny-Dub? O you're an early
Cock i'faith, who would have thought you to be so rare a
stirrer?
Dub.
Prethee, Moll, let me come up.
Moll.
No by my Faith, Sir John, I'll keep you down, for
you Knights are very dangerous, if once you get above.
Dub.
I'll not stay i'faith.
Moll.
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 come up to London, here the
Chimes go presently after twelve.
Dub.
O thou'rt a mad Wench, Moll, but I prethee make
haste, for the Priest is gone before.
Moll.
Do you follow him, I'll not be long after.
[Exeunt.
Enter Sir Oliver Muck-hill, Sir Andrew Tipstaff, and old Skirmish talking.
Muck.
O monstrous unheard of Forgery!
Tip.
Knight, I never heard of such Villany in our own
Country, in my Life.
Muck.
Why, 'tis impossible, dare you maintain your
Words?
Skir.
Dare we? e'en to their wezen Pipes; we know all
their Plots, they cannot squander with us, they have knavishly
abus'd 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
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 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,
-- 3241 --
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 publish'd much Judgment 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.
Ser.
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'll relate all to him.
[Exeunt.
Enter the two Bridegrooms, Captain and Scholar. After them,
Sir Godfrey and Edmond, Widow chang'd in Apparel,
Mistress Frances led between two Knights: Sir John Penny-Dub
and Moll; there meets them a Nobleman, Sir Oliver
Muck-hill, and Sir Andrew Tipstaff.
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 Handful 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 only love you to undo you; and 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,
-- 3242 --
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 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 entertain'd for Bridegrooms.
Wid.
Deceitful—
Pye.
All will out.
Cap.
'Sfoot, who was blab'd, George? that foolish Nicholas.
Nob.
For what they have besotted your easie Blood withal,
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
Couzenage.
Wid.
O wonderful! indeed I wondred that my Husband
with all his Craft, could not keep himself out of Purgatory.
Sir God.
And I more wonder, that my Chain should be
gone, and my Taylor had none of it.
Moll.
And I wondred most of all, that I should be tied
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, reveal'd
all their Plot in anger.
Pye.
Base Soldier, 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 believ'd true?
Wid.
O, to my shame, I do.
Sir God.
But under favour, my Lord, my Chain was truly
lost, and strangely found again.
Nob.
Resolve him of that, Soldier.
-- 3243 --
Skir.
In few words, Knight, then thou wert the Arch-Gull
of all.
Sir God.
How, Sir?
Skir.
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 needed any others, when he knew where it
was?
Sir God.
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 God.
O Villain! one of our Society,
Deem'd 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 Lion 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 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 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 have
long woed you, and both with their Hearts and Wealth sincerely
love you.
Sir God.
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 does consent to't.
Wid.
I know not with what Face.
Nob.
Pah, pah, with your own Face, they desire no
other.
-- 3244 --
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 God.
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 Heav'n rejoice.
Come, enter in your Joys, 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.
