Pye. [within.]

Pray turn the key.

Skir. [within.]

Turn the key, I pray.

Idle.

Who should those be? I almost know their voices. [Pyeboard and Skirmish enter.] O my friends! you are welcome to a smelling room here. You newly took leave of the air; has it not a strange savour?

Pye.

As all prisons have, smells of sundry wretches, who, though departed, leave their scents behind them. By gold, captain, I am sincerely sorry for thee.

Idle.

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

Skir.

Captain, what do you lie in for? is't great? what's your offence?

Idle.

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

Pye.

Nay, prophecy not so ill; it shall go hard but I'll shift for thy life.

Idle.

Whether I live or die, thou'rt an honest George. I'll tell you. Silver flow'd 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^{6 note}. Notwithstanding being descried, pursued, and taken, I know the law is so grim, in respect of many desperate, unsettled soldiers* ^note, that I fear me I shall dance after their pipe for't^{7 note}.

Skir.

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

Idle.

Pish; the worst is but death. Have you a pipe of tobacco about you?

Skir.

I think I have thereabouts about me.

Idle.

Here's a clean gentleman too, to receive^{8 note}

Pye.

Well, I must cast about some happy sleight: Work brain, that ever didst thy master right.

Oath. [within.]

Keeper, let the key be turn'd.

Nich. [within.]

Ay, I pray, master keeper, give us a cast of your office.

Idle.

How now? More visitants? What, corporal Oath?

Pye. Skir.

Corporal!

Oath.

In prison, honest captain? this must not be.

Nich.

How do you, captain kinsman?

Idle.

Good coxcomb, what makes that pure, starch'd fool here?

Nich.

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.

Idle.

This is a double torture now. This fool, by the book, doth vex me more than my imprisonment. What meant you, corporal, to hook him hither?

Oath.

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

Idle.

Fie, what vain breath you spend? He supply! I'll sooner expect mercy from an 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 restor'd to his blood* ^note
, and in heaven again.

Nich.

I warrant my kinsman's talking of me, for my left ear burns most tyrannically^{9 note}.

Pye.

Captain Idle, what's he there? he looks like a monkey upward, and a crane downward.

Idle.

Psha! a foolish cousin of mine, I must thank God for him.

Pye.

Why, the better subject to work a scape upon; thou shalt e'en change clothes with him, and leave him here, and so—

Idle.

Pish! I publish'd him e'en now to my corporal: he will be damn'd ere he do me so much good. Why, I know a more proper, a more handsome device than that, if the slave would be sociable. Now, goodman Fleerface?

Nich.

O, my cousin begins to speak to me now; I shall be acquainted with him again, I hope.

Skir.

Look, what ridiculous raptures take hold of his wrinkles.

Pye.

Then what say you to this device? a happy one, captain?

Idle.

Speak low, George; prison rats have wider ears than those in malt-lofts.

Nich.

Cousin, if it lay in my power, as they say, to do—

Idle.

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

Oath.

Pox, I'll thump him to't.

Pye.

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

Idle.

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.

Nich.

I would be heartily glad, cousin, if any of my friendships, as they say, might—stand, ha—

Pye.

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

Idle.

Ay, that's the hell on't; I would he would offer it wisely.

Nich.

Verily and indeed la, cousin—

Idle.

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,) wilt soon at night steal me thy master's chain?

Nich.

Oh, I shall swoon.

Pye.

Corporal, he starts already.

Idle.

I know it to be worth three hundred crowns; and with the half of that I can buy my life at a broker's, at second-hand, which now lies in pawn to the 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 and unjointed offers are but only created in thy lip; now born, and now buried; foolish breath only. What, wilt do't? shall I look for happiness in thy answer?

Nich.

Steal my master's chain, quoth-a? No, it shall ne'er be said, that Nicholas St. Antlings committed birdlime.

Idle.

Nay, I told you as much, did I not? Though he be a Puritan, yet he will be a true man^{1 note}

Nich.

Why cousin, you know 'tis written, Thou shalt not steal.

Idle.

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?

Idle.

Why in the first of Charity, the second verse.

Nich.

The first of Charity, quoth-a? That's a good jest; there's no such chapter in my book.

Idle.

No, I knew 'twas torn out of thy book, and that makes it so little in thy heart.

Pye. [Takes Nicholas aside.]

Come, let me tell you, you're too unkind a kinsman i'faith; the captain loving you so dearly, ay, like the pomewater of his eye^{2 note}

Nich.

Pray do not wish me to be hang'd. Any thing else that I can do, had it been to rob, I would

have 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?

Pye.

No faith, that were too much, to speak truth: why, wilt thou nym it from him^{3 note}

Nich.

That I will.

Pye.

Why enough, bully; he will be content with that, or he shall have none: let me alone with him now.—Captain, I have dealt with your kinsman in a corner; a good, kind-natur'd 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 nym it from him.

Nich.

Ay, that I will, cousin.

Idle.

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

Oath.

Here's no notable gullery^{4 note}

Pye.

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

Nich.

Ay, that would be good indeed, kinsman.

Pye.

For I have a farther reach, to profit us better by the missing of't only, than if we had it outright; as my discourse shall make it known to you. When thou hast the chain, do but convey it out at a back-door into the garden, and there hang it close in

the rosemary bank, but for a small season; and by that harmless device I know how to wind captain Idle out of prison: the knight thy master shall get his pardon, and release him, and he satisfy thy master with his own chain, and wondrous thanks on both hands.

Nich.

That were rare indeed la. Pray let me know how.

Pye.

Nay, 'tis very necessary thou should'st know, because thou must be employ'd as an actor.

Nich.

An actor? O no; that's a player; and our parson rails against players mightily, I can tell you, because they brought him drunk upon the stage once; —as he will be horribly drunk.

Oath.

Mass I cannot blame him then, poor church-spout.

Pye.

Why, as an intermedler then.

Nich.

Ay, that, that.

Pye.

Give me audience then. When the old knight, thy master, has raged his fill for the loss of the chain, tell him thou hast a kinsman in prison, of such exquisite art that the devil himself is French lackey to him, and runs bare-headed by his horsebelly, when he has one; whom he will cause, with most Irish dexterity^{5 note}, to fetch his chain, though 'twere hid under a mine of sea-coal, and ne'er make spade or pick-axe his instruments: tell him but this, with farther instructions thou shalt receive from me, and thou showest thyself a kinsman indeed.

Oath.

A dainty bully.

Skir.

An honest book-keeper.

Idle.

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.

Pye.

Why, well said; he begins to be an honest fellow, 'faith.

Oath.

In troth he does.

Nich.

You see, cousin, I am willing to do you any kindness; always saving myself harmless.

Idle.

Why I thank thee. Fare thee well; I shall requite it.

Oath.

'Twill be good for thee, captain, that thou hast such an egregious ass to thy cousin.

Idle.
Ay, is he not a fine fool, corporal?
But, George, thou talk'st of art and conjuring;
How shall that be?

Pye.
Puh! be't not in your care:
Leave that to me and my directions.
Well, captain, doubt not thy delivery now,
Even 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.

Idle.

Who I? Kerry merry buff-jerkin.

Pye.

Oh, I am happy in more sleights; and one will knit strong in another. Corporal Oath.

Oath.

Ho! bully!

Pye.

And thou, old Peter Skirmish, I have a necessary task for you both.

Skir.

Lay it upon us, George Pyeboard.

Oath.

Whate'er it be, we'll manage it.

Pye.

I would have you two maintain a quarrel before the lady widow's door, and draw your swords i' the edge of the evening: clash a little, clash, clash.

Oath.
Fuh!
Let us alone to make our blades ring noon,
Though it be after supper.

Pye.

I know you can: and out of that false fire, I doubt not but to raise strange belief. And, captain, to countenance my device the better, and grace my words to the widow, I have a good plain sattin suit, that I had of a young reveller t'other night; for words pass not regarded now a-days, unless they come from a good suit of cloaths; which the Fates and my wits have bestowed upon me. Well, captain Idle, if I did not highly love thee, I would ne'er be seen within twelve score of a prison;^{6 note}

Idle.

True, George.

Pye.

Fare thee well, captain. Come corporal and ancient. Thou shalt hear more news next time we greet thee.

Oath.

More news?—Ay, by yon Bear at Bridge-foot in heaven, shalt thou9Q1366* ^note.

Idle.
Enough: my friends, farewel!
This prison shows as ghosts did part in hell. [Exit.

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