Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: Anonymous
Not Peer Reviewed

The Puritan (Folio 3, 1664)


Actus Tertius.
Enter Simon Saint Mary-Overies, and Frailty.
Frail. Sirrah Simon Saint Mary-Overies, my Mistris
sends away all her suiters, and puts fleas in their eares.
975Sim. Frailty, she does like an honest, chast, and vir-
tuous woman; for Widows ought not to wallow in the
puddle of Iniquity.
Frail. Yet, Simon, many Widows will do't, what so
ere comes on't.
980Sim. True, Frailty, their filthy flesh desires a Con-
junction Copulative; what strangers are within,
Frailty?
Frail. There's none, Simon; but master Pilfer the Tay-
lor: he's above with Sir Godfrey, praising of a Doublet:
985and I must trudge anon to fetch Master Suds the Barber.
Sim. Master Sud's a good man, he washes the sins of
the Beard clean.
Skir. How now, creatures? what's a Clock?
Enter old Skirmish, the Soldiers.
990Frail. Why, doe you take us to be Jack at th'Clock-
house?
Skir. I say again to you what's a Clock?
Sim. Truly la, we go by the Clock of our Conscience,
all worldly Clocks we know go false, and are set by
995drunken Sextons.
Skir. Then what's a Clock in your Conscience?---oh,
I must break off, here comes the Corporall---hum, hum:
---what's a Clock?
Enter Corporall.
1000Corp. A Clock? why past seventeen.
Frail. Past seventeen? nay, h'as met with his match
now, Corporall Oath will fit him.
Skir. Thou dost not bawke or baffle me, dost thou?
I am a Souldier---past seventeen.
1005Corp. I, 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 Dialls part in a just cause.
Skir. I say 'tis but past five then.
1010Corp. I'le swear 'tis past seventeen then: dost thou
not know numbers? canst thou not cast?
Skir. Cast? dost thou speak of my casting ith' street?
Draw.
Corp. I, and in the Market place.
1015Sim. Clubs, Clubs, Clubs.
Simon runs in.
Frail. I, I knew by their shuffling Clubs would be
Trump; masse here's the Knave, and he can do any good
upon 'em: Clubs, Clubs, Clubs.
Enter Pye-boord.
1020Cap. O Villain, thou hast open'd a vain in my Leg.
Pye. How now? for shame, for shame, put up, put up.
Cap. By yon blew Welkin, 'twas out of my part,
George, to be hurt on the Leg.
Enter Officers.
1025Pye. Oh peace now---I have a Cordiall here to com-
fort thee.
Offi. Down with 'em, down with 'em, lay hands upon
the Villain.
Skir. Lay hands on me?
1030Pye. I'le not be seen among 'em now.
Cap. I'me hurt, and had more need have Surgeons,
Lay hands upon me then, rough Officers.
Offi. Go, carry him to be drest then:
This mutinous Soldier shall along with me to prison.
1035Skir. To prison? where's George?
Offi. Away with him.
Exeunt with Skir.
Pye. So,
All lights as I would wish, the amaz'd Widow,
Will plant me strongly now in her belief,
1040And wonder at the virtue of my words:
For the event turns these presages from 'em,
Of being mad and dumb, and begets joy
Mingled with admiration: these empty creatures,
Souldier and Corporall, were but ordain'd
1045As instruments for me to work upon.
Now to my Patient, here's his Potion.
Exit Pye-boord.