The Puritan Widow (Folio 3, 1664)
Not Peer Reviewed
The PURITAN: or, The WIDOW
of Watling-street.
Actus Primus.
1
Enter the Lady Widdow-Plus, her two Daughters, Frank
¶band
.
¶0H, that ever I was born, that ever I was born!
¶self a woman, now or never.
¶as right, as right.
¶he was a man so well given to a woman---oh!
¶as any woman, but alass, our teares cannot call him again:
¶is as common as Homo, a common name to all men;---a
¶man shall be taken when he's making water,---nay,
¶now, that all Flesh is frail, we are born to die, Man has
¶ons, as he is a rare fellow you know, and an excellent
¶Reader: and for example, (as there are examples abun-
30dance) did not Sir Humphrey Bubble die tother day,
¶cry'd ne're a whit at all.
40gracious son and heir thou?
45her another time?
¶an honest man to thy Father---that would deceive all the
50world to get riches for thee, and canst thou not afford a
¶minster-Hall every Tearm-time, with all his Cards and
¶band!
60'Tis time for you to take truce with your eyes,
¶Let me weep now?
¶rains upon, he had it, pouring down?
¶you wealthy, y'are rich.
¶Wid. Oh!
¶Wid. Oh!
¶ter'd with you, but that you will be sought after, and
¶should we doe with all our Knights I pray? but to marry
¶brow'd Ladies; go to, be of good comfort I say, leave
¶hearted man---I would not have the Elf see me now?
¶---come, pluck up a womans heart---here stands your
¶buried---yet I cannot chuse but weep for him.
¶Wid. Marry again! no, let me be buried quick then!
¶And that same part of Quire whereon I tread
90To such intent, O may it be my grave:
¶And that the Priest may turn his wedding prayers,
¶a husband; he was unmatchable---unmatchable: nothing
¶that one thing that I had not, beside, I had keyes of all,
¶I would, went abroad when I would, came home when I
100band; I shall never have the like.
¶that's the properer phrase indeed.
105Wid. Never: oh if you love me urge it not:
¶Oh may I be the by-word of the world,
¶The common talk at Table in the mouth
¶Of every Groom and Waiter, if e're more
¶I entertain the carnall suit of man.
¶E'ne in this depth of generall sorrow, vow
¶Nay vow, I would not marry for his death,
¶I'de as soon vow never to come in Bed:
¶Tut, Women must live by th' quick, and not by th' dead.
¶
Drawing out her Husbands Picture.
¶How like him is their Model; their brief Picture
¶Quickens my teares: my sorrowes are renew'd
¶Wid. Away,
¶All honesty with him is turn'd to clay,
130Mol. Here's a puling indeed! I think my Mother
¶weeps for all the women that ever buried husbands: for if
¶from time to time all the Widowers teares in England
¶had been bottled up, I doe not think all would have fill'd
¶a three-half-penny Bottle: alass, a small matter bucks a
¶nigh Saint Thomas a Watrings: well, I can mourn in
¶quick husband.
Exit Mol.
140Sir God. Well, go thy wayes, old Sir Godfrey, and
¶pril the poor soules eyes are; well, I would my Brother
¶knew on't, he should then know what a kind Wife he
145had left behind him; truth, and 'twere not for shame that
¶twixt joy and grief, I should e'ne cry out-right.
¶
Exit Sir Godfrey.
150his Coffin and he is like a whole Meat-Pye, and the
¶well; I'le be curb'd in no more: I perceive a son and heir
¶may quickly be made a fool and he will be one, but I'le
¶take another order;---Now she would have me weep
¶why all the world knowes, as long as 'twas his pleasure to
¶get me, 'twas his duty to get for me: I know the Law in
160that point, no Atturney can gull me. Well, my Unckle
¶I may doe well enough by my Fathers Copy: the Law's
¶in mine own hands now: nay now I know my strength,
165I'le be strong enough for my Mother I warrant you?
¶
Exit.
¶
Enter George Py-bord a Schollar and a Citizen, and un-
¶
to him an old Souldier, Peter Skirmish.
¶Pye. What's to be done now, old Lad of War, thou
170that wert wont to be as hot as a turn-spit, as nimble as a
¶kets, Calivers and Hotshots? in Long-lane, at pawn, at
175pawn;---Now keyes are our onely Guns, Key-guns, Key-
¶nells in peace, and stand ready charg'd to give warning;
¶with hems, hums, and pocky-coffs; onely your Chambers
¶are licenst to play upon you, and Drabs enow to give fire
180to 'em.
¶dier any time this forty yeares, and now I perceive an old
185Soldier, and an old Courtier have both one destiny, and in
¶the end turn both into hob-nayles.
¶naile is the true embleme of a Beggar's Shoe-soale.
¶has a piece of one, though it be full of holes like a shot
195gentle nature) then a profest warre.
¶tleman, and a Schollar, I have been matriculated in the
200Countrey, kept order, went bare-headed over the Qua-
¶drangle, eat my Commons with a good stomack, and
¶would never endure me to be idle,) I was expell'd the
¶ledge.
210ward London, where when I came, all my friends were
¶pit-hold, gone to Graves, (as indeed there was but a few
¶left before) then was I turn'd to my wits, to shift in the
¶world, to towre among Sons and Heires, and Fooles, and
¶Gulls, and Ladies eldest Sons, to work upon nothing, to
215feed out of Flint, and ever since has my belly been much
¶beholding to my brain: But now to return to you, old
¶bulency in the world, for I have nothing in the world,
¶but my wits, and I think they are as mad as they will be:
¶nest warre, is better than a bawdy peace: as touching
¶my self being a Schollar and a Graduate, have no other
¶comfort by my learning, but the affection of my words,
230to know how Schollar-like to name what I want, and
¶can call my self a Beggar both in Greek and Latine, and
¶therefore not to cog with Peace, I'le not be afraid to say,
¶'tis a great Breeder, but a bad Nourisher: a great getter
¶of Child
ren, which must either be Thieves or Rich men,
235Knaves or Beggars.
¶Skirmish. Well, would I had been born a Knave then,
¶when I was born a Beggar, for if the truth were known,
¶I think I was begot when my Father had never a penny
¶in his purse.
¶Knave, thou maist be a Knave when thou wilt; and
¶arrant Drab to us, let us handle her accordingly, and by
245our wits thrive in despight of her; for the law lives by
¶quarrels, the Courtier by smooth good-morrows, and
¶why not we then by shifts, wiles, and forgeries? and
¶march beyond the bounds of his allowance, and for our
¶thriving means, thus, I my self will put on the Deceit of
¶a Fortune-teller, a Fortune-teller.
255Skirm. Very proper.
¶Skir. A Conjurer.
¶deceive all eyes, but the Devils.
260Skir. Oh I, for I would not deceive him and I could
¶choose, of all others.
¶we shall help one another to Patients, as the condition of
¶the age affords creatures enow for cunning to work upon.
¶Pye. Oh, fit, fit, excellent.
¶Skir. What in the name of Conjuring?
¶mirable subject to graze upon. The Lady-Widow, who
270of late I saw weeping in her Garden, for the death of her
¶this time is dropt out of her eyes: device well manag'd
¶shall be there.
275Skir. You have my voice, George.
¶Pye-board. Sh'as a gray Gull to her Brother, a fool to
¶I over-heard'em severally, and from their words I'le drive
280cond in all slights.
¶Skir. Ne're doubt me, George Pye-board,----only you
¶must teach me to conjure.
¶
Enter Captain Idle, pinion'd, and with a guard
¶
of Officers passeth over the Stage.
285Pye. Puh, I'le perfect thee, Peter:
¶How now? what's he?
¶'Tis my sworn Brother, Captain Idle.
¶Pye. Captain Idle.
¶I cannot but commend his resolution, he would not pawn
¶his Buff-Jerkin, I would either some of us were employed,
¶or might pitch our Tents at Usurers doors, to kill the
295slaves as they peep out at the Wicket.
¶our money in their hands, and make us to be hang'd for
¶robbing of'em, but come let's follow after to the Prison,
¶and know the nature of his offence, and what we can
¶tan.
Exeunt.
¶
Enter at one door Corporal Oath, a vain-glorious fellow,
305_vingmen, Nicholas Saint-Tantlings, Simon Saint,
¶_ing coats, and Books at their Girdles, as coming from
¶Church. _They meet.
310met with you next our hearts; you are the man that we
¶are forbidden to keep company withall, we must not
315seen in your company.
320All. Oh.
¶Corp. Why Nicholas Saint-Tantlings, Simon Saint
¶combs; not once to do duty to a man of Mark.
¶Frail. A man of Mark, quatha, I do not think he can
¶shew a Beggars Noble.
330is able to blow you up all drye with your Books at your
¶Girdles.
¶know the breath of man is weak.
Corp breaths on Frailty.
335enough; blows us up, quatha, he may well blow me above
¶right, a man might smell him from the top of Newgate, to
¶the the Leads of Ludgate.
¶Corp. Sirrah, thou hollow book of Wax-candle.
¶Nich. Hold, hold, good Corporal Oath; for if you
¶ther Cod-piece point---------
¶Nich. O Simon, what an oath was there.
¶Breeches would fall down about his heels, for Venus al-
350lows but one point to his hose.
355dear Kinsman in Cappadochio.
360time I heard on't.
¶thy yearly-wages, let not a Commander perish?
¶rish.
¶my Kinsman, if I can do him any good, I will,---but I
¶have nothing for him, Simon Saint Mary Overies and
¶Frailty, pray make a Lye for me to the Knight my Ma-
¶ster, old Sir Godfrey.
370Cor. A Lye? may you lye then?
¶Sim. True, we may lie with our Neighbour's wife,
¶Cor. Oh, an excellent Tag of Religion!
380flock well, for he's an excellent Feeder.
¶
Exeunt Corporal & Nicholas.
¶afterwards fall to the pettitoes.
Exeunt Sim.& Frailty.
¶
The Prison, Marshalsea.
385
Enter Captain Idle at one door, and old Souldier
¶
at the other.
¶
George Pye-board speaking within.
¶Pye. Pray turn the key.
¶Skir. Turn the key I pray?
¶O my friends!Entring.
¶Y'are welcome to a smelling Room here? you newly
395Who though departed, leave their sents behind 'em,
¶Skir. Captain, what do you lie in for? is't great?
400what's your offence?
¶Cap. Faith, my offence is ordinary,--common, a
¶High-way, and I fear me my penalty will be ordinary
¶and common too, a Halter.
405But I'le shift for thy life.
¶I'le tell you---Silver flow'd not with me, as it had done,
¶(for now the tide runs to Bawds and Flatterers) I had a
¶led Souldiers, that I fear me I shall dance after their pipe
415for't.
¶so great.
420Tobacco about you?
¶Skir. I think I have thereabouts about me!
¶
Captain blows a pipe.
¶Cap. Here's a clean Gentlman too, to receive.
¶Cor. Keeper, let the key be turn'd.
¶
Corporal and Nicholas within.
430Pye. Skir. Corporal.
¶fool here?
¶and I was very glad on't, that it was no worse.
¶Cap. This is a double torture now,---this fool by th'
¶book doth vex me more then my imprisonment. What
440meant you, Corporal, to hook him hither?
¶I'le make him do't.
¶Devil, then good from a Puritan. I'le look for relief from
¶ven again.
¶left ear burns most tyrannically.
¶Pye. Captain Idle? what's he there? he looks like a
¶Monkey upward, and a Crane downward.
455God for him.
¶thou shalt e'en change cloathes with him, and leave him
¶here, and so---
460he will be damn'd ere he do me so much good; why I
¶know a more proper, a more handsome device then that,
¶face?
465shall be acquainted with him again, I hope.
¶Skir. Look! what ridiculous Raptures take hold of his
¶wrinckles.
¶Captain?
¶eares then those in Malt-lofts.
¶that; nere talk forder on't, the fool will be hang'd ere
475he do't.
¶Cor. Pax, I'le thump'im to't.
¶him bluntly.
485you already.
¶Cap. I, that's the hell on't, I would he would offer it
¶wisely.
¶Cap.I have took note of thy fleers a good while, if
490thou art minded to do me good? as thou gap'st upon me
¶comfortably, and giv'st me charitable faces; which indeed
¶Cap. I know it to be worth three hundred Crowns,
¶and with the half of that, I can buy my life at a Bro-
¶kers, at second hand, which now lies in pawn to the
¶Law, if this thou refuse to do, being
easie and nothing
500dangerous, in that thou art held in good opinion of thy
¶life at no price, and these thy broken and unjoynted
¶offers, are but only created in thy lip, now born, and
¶nere be said, that Nicholas Saint Tantlings committed
¶Bird-lime!
¶Cap. Nay, I told you as much, did I not? though he
510be a Puritan, yet he will be a true man.
¶not steal.
¶and help him in extremities.
515Nic. Mass I think it be indeed; in what Chapter's
¶that, Cousin?
520Cap. No, I know twas torn out of thy Book, and that
¶makes so little in thy heart.
¶man ifaith; the Captain loving you so dearly, I, like the
¶Pomwater of his eye, & you to be so uncomfortable, fie, fie.
¶that I can do; had it been to rob, I would ha don't, but I
530why wilt thou Nim it from him?
¶Nic. That I will.
¶Pye. Why enough, Bully; he will be content with that,
¶tain, I ha dealt with your Kinsman in a corner; a good,
535--kind-natur'd fellow, me thinks: go to, you shall not
¶the Chain from him, but to do you a pleasure, he will nim
¶it from him.
¶I must be contented with that.
¶Cor. Here's no notable gullery?
545we'll have only but a help and a mirth on't, the Knight
¶the way some one or two dayes.
¶Pye. For I have a farder reach, to profit us better, by
¶the Chain, do but convey it out at a back-door into the
555know how to wind Captain Idle out of prison, the Knight
¶thanks on both hands.
¶Nic. That were rare indeed la, pray let me know how.
¶they brought him drunk upo'th'Stage once,--as he will be
565horribly drunk.
¶Pye. Why as an Intermedler then?
¶Nic. I, that, that.
¶Pye. Give me audience then; when the old Knight thy
570Master has rag'd his fill for the loss of the Chain, tell him
¶the Devil himself is French Lackey to him, and runs
¶bare-headed by his horse-----belly (when he has
575ty to fetch his Chain, though 'twere hid under a mine
¶of Sea-coal, and ne're make Spade or Pick-axe his
¶Kinsman indeed.
580Cor. A dainty Bully.
¶and hang it in the Rosemary banck, but I bear that mind,
585Cousin, I would not Steal any thing, me thinks, for mine
¶own Father.
¶Skir. He bears a good mind in that, Captain.
¶Cor. In troth he does.
Exit Nicholas.
¶quite it..
¶Cap. I, is not that a fine fool, Corporal?
¶But George, thou talk'st of Art and Conjuring,
¶How shall that be?
¶Pyb. Puh, be't not in your care,
600Leave that to me and my directions;
¶Well, Captain, doubt not thy delivery now,
¶E'en 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,
605All which I doubt not to hit at length,
¶Captain be merry.
¶Cap. Who I? Kerry merry Buffe-Jerkin.
610knit strong in another, --Corporal Oath.
¶Cor. Hoh Bully!
¶task for you both.
¶Skir. Lay't upon George Pye-bord.
615Corp. What e're it be, we'll manage it.
¶Pye. I would have you two maintain a quarrell before
¶the Lady Widdowes door, and draw your Swords ith'edge
¶Corp. Fuh.
620Let us alone to make our Blades ring noon,
¶Though it be after supper.
¶Pye. I know you can;
¶belief--and, Captain, to countenance my device the bet-
625ter, and grace my words to the Widow, I have a good
¶plain Sattin Sute, that I had of a young Reveller tother
¶night, for words pass not regarded now a dayes, unless they
¶come from a good suit of cloathes, which the Fates and my
¶wits have bestowed upon me. Well, Captain Idle, if I
630did not highly love thee, I would ne're be seen within
¶upon a mans Jack.
635Capt. True, George?
¶Pye. Fare thee well, Captain. Come Corporall and
¶Ancient, thou shalt hear more newes next time we greet
¶thee.
¶Corp. More newes? I, by yon Bear at Bridge-Foot in
640heaven shalt thou.
Exeunt.
¶Capt. Enough: my friends farewell,
¶
Enter Moll youngest Daughter to the Widow, alone.
645men know 'tis as honourable a thing as to lie with a man;
¶ther, he sayes he will Coach me too, and well appoint me,
¶Father ith' Countrey is wondrous wealthy, a most
¶abominable Farmer, and therefore he may dote in time:
¶troth I'le venter upon him; women are not without
¶houres warning I can transform him into an Oxe;----
¶there comes in my relief again.
¶
Enter Frailty.
¶Moll. How now? what's the newes?
¶Frail. The Knight your Suiter, Sir John Penny-Dub.
¶Moll. Sir John Penny-Dub? where? where?
¶Frail. He's walking in the Gallery.
¶I'le meet him half way.
670break nothing this time.
¶
Enter Sir John Penny-Dub.
¶O welcome, good Sir John.
¶and I came from Court enow.
¶fashion?
¶my honour to your lip thus: and then accost it.
¶thy on't, sir.
¶O my Mother, my Mother, now she's here,
685
Kissing. Enter Widow and Sir Godfrey.
¶We'll steale into the Gallery.
Exeunt.
¶play the foole, stand not in your own light, you have
¶wealthy offers, large tendrings, doe not withstand your
690good fortune: who comes a wooing to you I pray? no
¶small fool, a rich Knight oth' City, Sir Oliver Muck-hill,
¶no small fool I can tell you: and furthermore as I heard late
¶to me any thing, I thank 'em) both your Daughters are
695not without Suiters, I, and worthy ones too; one a brisk
¶eldest Daughter, and the third a huge wealthy Farmers
¶Son, a fine young Country Knight, they call him Sir
¶John Penny-Dub, a good name marry, he may have it
¶Sister?
¶Wid. Tempt me not, Satan.
¶Sir God. Satan? doe I look like Satan? I hope the
¶Devil's not so old as I, I trow.
¶A suiter to me,---oh I cannot abide it,
¶I take in poyson when I hear one nam'd.
¶
Enter Simon.
¶How now, Simon? where's my son Edmond?
¶in the Tennis-Court.
¶Wid. At Tennis-Court? oh, now his Father's gone,
¶I shall have no rule with him; oh wicked Edmond, I
¶might well compare this with the Prophecy in the Chro-
715nicle, though far inferiour, as Harry of Monmouth won
¶towthat was the Father, got all, and Edmond of London
720hope on him yet, though it be but a little.
¶
Enter Frailty.
¶ship.
725Wid. Archers?
¶Wid. Oh,
¶Let them come near, they bring home things of his,
¶Troth I should ha forgot 'em, how now?
730Villain, which be those Archers?
¶
Enter the Suiters, Sir Andrew Tipstaffe, Sir Oliver
¶
Muck-hill, and Penni-Dub.
¶these Archers, what do you call'em Shooters: Shooters
735and Archers are all one I hope.
¶Muck. Nay, pray be patient Lady,
¶We come in way of honorable love.
¶Tipst. Penny. We do.
740Muck. To you.
¶Tipst. Penny. And to your Daughters.
¶deed I will not look upon you; when the tears are scarce
¶out of mine eyes, not yet washt off from my cheeks, and
¶Widows that will bury one in the evening, and be sure
¶to another ere morning; pray away, pray take your an-
750vow'd never to marry;---and so have my daughters too!
¶Penny. I, two of you have, but the third's a good wench!
¶but the first, and he's a blunt wooer, that will leave for
755Tip. Where be your Daughters Lady, I hope they'll
¶give us better encouragements?
760she'll do?
¶Muck. Well, Lady, for this time we'll take our leaves,
¶hoping for better comfort.
¶and you be good Knights, do not hope; 'twill be all Vain,
765Vain,----look you put off all your suits, and you come to
¶me again.
¶wooing of a Widdow indeed, when a man's Nonsuted,
¶that is, when he's a bed with her.
770
Going out Muckhill and Sir Godfrey.
¶Muck. Sir Godfrey? here's twenty Angels more, work
¶hard for me; there's life in't yet.
Exit Muckhill.
¶close for you, leave all w
ith me.
775
Enter George Pye-board the Schollar.
¶Pye. By your leave Lady Widow.
¶your self, I'de not be troubled with you.
¶Pye. Very needfull; if you were in private once.
Exit Frailty.
¶
Enter Daughters.
790Wid. Now Sir?---here's none but wee----Daughters
¶forbear.
¶importeth equally to them as you?
¶For what I speak is full of weight and fear.
¶Wid. Fear?
¶Else peace and joy:---I pray Attention.
¶you live in, nor did I ever know the Husband of you,
¶and Father of them, but I truly know by certain spiritual
¶Intelligence, that he is in Purgatory.
¶that there is a Purgatory, in which place I know your
¶husband to recide, and wherein he is like to remain, till
¶when all the earth shall melt into nothing, and the Seas
¶him?
820Why but Daughter, have you purpos'd speedy Marriage?
¶and yet you see I know your determinations, which
825intelligence.
¶Wid. This puts amazement on me.
¶Had dropt out when he blab'd it.
¶man, to be now in any Purgatories-----
¶'Tis but meer folly now to gild'em ore:
¶I know he got his wealth with a hard gripe:
¶Oh hardly, hardly.
¶Pye. He would eat fools and ignorant heirs clean up;
840And had his drink from many a poor mans brow,
¶Even as their labour brew'd it.
¶The very dirt between his nails was ill got
¶And not his own,---oh
¶shudder!
¶my dead husband!
850Pye-board. Oh?
¶Morning Prayer?
855Pye. Oh uff.
¶Wid. Dine quickly upon high-dayes, and when I had
¶ble, to get a good seat at an after-noon Sermon.
¶Pye. There's the devil, there's the devil, true, he thought
860it Sanctity enough, if he had kill'd a man, so t'ad bin
¶done in a Pue, or undone his Neighbour, so t'ad bin
¶near enough to th' Preacher, Oh!---a Sermon's a fine
¶short Cloak of an hour long, and will hide the upper part
865his conscience was as hard as the Pulpit.
¶Wid. I can no more endure this.
¶Pye. Nor I, Widow,
¶Endure to flatter.
870Pye. No, Lady, 'tis but the induction to't,
¶And if your conscience would leap up to your tongue,
¶I know of things to come, as well as I do of what is pre-
¶loss.
¶Wid. A loss? marry Heaven forfend, Sir Godfrey, my
¶Brother!
¶Pye. Nay, keep in your wonders, 'till I have told you
880the fortunes of you all; which are more fearfull, if not
¶happily prevented,--for your part and you: Daughters, if
¶door, whereof the humane creature dyes, of you two the
¶elder shall run mad.
885Mother & Frank. Oh!
¶Mol. That's not I yet.
¶naked Bodies to the view of all beholders.
890Pye. Attend me, and your younger Daughter be
¶strucken dumb.
¶a Woman, I'de rather be mad, or run naked, or any
¶thing: dumb?
895Pye. Give ear: ere the evening fall upon Hill, Bog,
¶and then shall I be believed accordingly.
¶done.
¶ble before evening.
905ding, which I before told you of; take heed upon your
¶lives, that two of you which have vow'd never to marry,
¶you meddle not with a Husband.
910Moll. A double Torment.
¶world, would with horrour kill the ear should hear 'em
¶related.
915Wid. Marry? why I vow'd never to marry.
¶marry: what a cross Fortune's this?
920ter Fortunes, you have'em from me as they are revealed
¶to me: I would they were to your tempers, and fellows
¶with your blouds, that's all the bitterness I would you.
¶hard purchases.
¶Wid. I'le to Sir Godfrey my Brother, and acquaint
¶Wid. Oh I, they do, they do;
¶I will reward thy cunning.
¶Pye. 'Tis enough, Lady,
¶I wish no higher.
Exit.
Exit.
¶teller, as well as if I had had a Witch to my Grannam:
¶den, which neighbours the Orchard of the Widow, I
940laid the hole of mine ear to a hole in the wall, and heard
945ing be over it: and to confirm my former presage to the
¶Widow, I have advis'd old Peter Skirmish the Souldier,
¶to hurt Corporal Oath upon the Leg, and in that hurry,
¶ral some Cordial to comfort him, I'le pour into his mouth
¶for the which the old Souldier being apprehended, and
¶ready to be borne to execution, I'le step in, and take upon
¶me the cure of the dead man, upon pain of dying the
¶condemned's death: the Corporal will wake at his mi-
¶and if that foolish Nicholas Saint Tantlings keep true
¶time with the Chain, my plot will be sound, the Captain
960delivered, and my wits applauded among Schollars and
¶Souldiers for ever.
_
Exit Pye-board.
¶
Enter Nicholas Saint Tantlings, with the Chain.
¶Nic. Oh, I have found an excellent advantage to take
965a new Doublet, and I sneakt it away by little and little,
¶going to hang it between Heaven and Earth among the
970Rosemary branches.
Exit Nich.
¶
Actus Tertius.
¶
Enter Simon Saint Mary-Overies, and Frailty.
¶tuous woman; for Widows ought not to wallow in the
¶puddle of Iniquity.
¶ere comes on't.
¶junction Copulative; what strangers are within,
¶Frailty?
¶lor: he's above with Sir Godfrey, praising of a Doublet:
¶the Beard clean.
¶Skir. How now, creatures? what's a Clock?
¶
Enter old Skirmish, the Soldiers.
¶house?
995drunken Sextons.
¶I must break off, here comes the Corporall---hum, hum:
¶---what's a Clock?
¶
Enter Corporall.
¶now, Corporall Oath will fit him.
1005Corp. I, thou art not angry with the figures, art thou?
¶I will prove it unto thee, 12. and 1. is thirteen I hope,
¶
Draw.
¶Corp. I, and in the Market place.
¶upon 'em: Clubs, Clubs, Clubs.
¶
Enter Pye-boord.
¶Cap. By yon blew Welkin, 'twas out of my part,
¶George, to be hurt on the Leg.
¶
Enter Officers.
¶fort thee.
¶Offi. Down with 'em, down with 'em, lay hands upon
¶the Villain.
¶Skir. Lay hands on me?
¶Cap. I'me hurt, and had more need have Surgeons,
¶Lay hands upon me then, rough Officers.
¶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:
¶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.
¶
Enter the Widow with her two Daughters.
¶O luckky fair event! I think our fortunes
1050Were blest e'ne in our Cradles: we are quitted
¶By this rash bleeding chance: go, Frailty, run, and know
¶Whether he be yet living, or yet dead,
¶That here before my door receiv'd his hurt.
¶he had no money when he came there, I warrant he's
¶dead by this time.
Exit Frailty.
¶Franck. Sure that man is a rare fortune-teller, never
¶lookt upon our hands, nor upon any mark about us, a
1060wondrous fellow surely.
¶I hope shortly.
1065were here, that I might relate to him how prophetically
¶the cunning Gentleman spoke in all things.
¶
Enter Sir Godfrey in a rage.
¶Chain, where be these Villains, Varlets?
¶Sir God. My Chain, my Chain.
¶I told you that a Cunning-man told me, that you should
¶of my Chain, 'twas worth above three hundred Crowns,
¶fathers huge Grandfathers: I had as lieve ha lost my
¶Neck, as the Chain that hung about it; O my Chain, my
1080Chain.
¶'tis happy 'twas no more.
1085of Gold-Lace? my holyday Gascoins, and my Jerkin
¶set with Pearl? no more!
¶Wid. Oh, Brother, you can read.---
¶Sir God. But I cannot read where my Chain is: what
1090and Catch-poles: how comes it gone? there was none a-
¶bove with me but my Taylor, and my Taylor will not---
¶steale I hope?
¶Moll. No, he's afraid of a Chain.
¶
Enter Frailty.
¶rall now, for his Corps are as dead as a cold Capons?
¶Sir God. Sirrha, what's this to my Chain? where's
1100my Chain, knave?
¶Frail. I would he were hang'd in Chains that has it
1105you were hung with it your self.
¶I have oft told it over at my prayers:
¶Over and over, full three thousand Lincks.
1110put you in that comfort.
¶Sir God. Why? why?
¶cannot chuse but come to light.
¶
Enter Nicholas.
¶Chain.
¶'Tis stoln away, I'me robb'd.
¶that would fetch it again with a Sesarara.
1125dwells he?
¶he's an exlent fellow if he were out: h'as travell'd all the
1130ces: why he would make it be fetcht, sir, if it were rid a
¶thousand mile out of town.
¶Sir God. An admirable fellow, what lies he for;
¶Nic. Why he did but rob a Steward of ten groats
¶tother night, as any man would ha done, and there he
1135lies for't.
¶Besides a bountifull reward, I'le about it,
1140All will be well I hope, and turn to good,
¶The name of Conjurer has laid my blood.
Exeunt.
¶
Enter Puttock and Ravenshaw two Serjeants, with Yeo-
¶
man Dogson, to arrest the Scholler George Pye-boord.
¶company me, because I know not of what nature the
¶with me, Serjeant Raven-shaw, I have the good Angel to
¶arrest him.
1150Raven. Troth I'le take part with thee then, Serjeant,
¶bear to a Schollar: why, Serjeant, 'tis naturall in us
¶you know to hate Schollars: naturall besides, they will
¶publish our imperfections, knaveries, and Conveyances
1155upon Scaffolds and Stages.
¶our Doublets are button'd with Pewter.
1160parlous fellowes, they will search more with their wits,
¶than a Constable with all his Officers.
¶Dogson.
¶Dog. I, I.
¶Put. Have an eye, have an eye.
¶he weares no weapon I think.
1170Put. No, no, he weares no weapon.
¶in better heart; nay if I clutch him once, let me alone
¶to drag him if he be stiff-necked; I have been one of
1175when their weapons have bin gone, as ever bastinado'd
¶a Serjeant---I have done I can tell you.
¶Dog. Serjeant Puttock, Serjeant Puttock.
¶Put. Hoh.
1180Put. Peace, peace, be not too greedy, let him play a
¶little, let him play a little, we'll jerk him up of a sudden,
¶I ha fisht in my time.
¶Raven I, and caught many a fool, Serjeant.
¶
Enter Pye-boord.
1185Pye. I parted now from Nicholas: the Chain's couch't,
¶And the old Knight has spent his rage upon't,
¶The Widow holds me in great admiration
¶For my device can no way now be crost,
¶prison indeed.
¶jeants, and stage 'em: you tickle their vices.
¶can a Schollar be a Gentleman,---when a Gentleman
1200will not be a Schollar;---look upon your wealthy Citi-
¶zens Sons, whether they be Schollars or no, that are Gen-
¶tlemen by their Fathers Trades: a Schollar a Gentleman!
1205separabile to my blood.
¶rablement upon you I warrant you.
¶ction ith' Counter.
¶Whether you please to have me.
¶pound five shillings and five pence.
¶Upon a farther day; well, 'tis my starres:
¶And I must bear it now, though never harder.
¶Put. Come, come away.
¶and I'le away with you.
¶this is no pains to attend thus.
Making to tie his Garter.
1230shake out again I fear me, till with a true Habeas Corpus
¶man, that looking through the grates, men may look
1235through me; all my means is confounded, what shall I
1240yes too, I'le try it, it may hit, Extremity is Touch-stone
¶unto wit, I, I.
¶Put. 'Sfoot how many yards are in thy Garters, that
¶no lawfull picture about me.
¶you had not crost me, I was going in great joy to receive
¶five pound of a Gentleman, for the Device of a Mask
1255my fortunes.
¶Put. Why how far hence dwells that Gentleman?
¶mony.
¶Put. Speak, if it be not far---
¶if you'll say you'll be liberal when you ha't, give us double
¶ness, and go along with you to the Gentleman.
¶have her four pound five shillings, and bate me the five
1270Ravinish. Why now thou art a good Schollar.
¶Put. An excellent Schollar ifaith; has proceeded very
¶well alate; come, we'll along with you.
¶
Exeunt with him, passing in they knock at the
¶door with a knocker withinside.
¶Porter.
¶Pye. A few friends here.---pray is the Gentleman
¶your Master within?
¶I pray you, have you forgot me.
¶tell him of you, please you to walk here in the Gallery till
¶he comes.
¶fair coming in, and the wicket, else I neither knew him
¶nor his worship, but 'tis happiness he is within doors,
¶what so'ere he be, if he be not too much a formal Citizen,
1290he may do me good: Serjeant and Yeoman, how do you
¶ne're knew me: No matter, what is forgot in you, will be
1295remembred in your Master.
¶A pritty comfortable room this methinks:
¶Put. Oh dog-holes to't.
¶Pye. Dog-holes indeed---I can tell you I have great
1300hope to have my Chamber here shortly, nay and dyet
¶takes: you would little think it? and what a fine Gallery
1305
Enter Gentleman.
¶Pye. Look what maps, and pictures, and devices, and
¶to your worship.
¶count of him.
¶extreams makes me boulder then I would be; I am a poor
¶Gentleman and a Schollar, and now most unfortunately
1320falne into the hands of unmercifull Officers, arrested for
¶utterly to perish, and with fees and extortions be pincht
1325clean to the bone: Now, if ever pitty had interest in the
¶favour that means of my escape, which I have already
¶thought upon.
¶Gent. Go forward.
1330Put. I warrant he likes it rarely.
¶Pye. In the plunge of my extremities, being giddy,
¶ing thoughts, to make a happy use of this paper, and to
¶blear their unlettered eyes, I told them there was a Device
¶tion,) I was going to a Gentleman to receive my reward
¶for't: they greedy at this word, and hoping to make pur-
¶chase of me, offered their attendance, to go along with
¶me, my hap was to make bold with your door, sir, which
¶entrance, and I hope I have happened right upon under-
¶then, but to uphold my Device, which is to let one of your
¶men put me out at a back door, and I shall be bound to
1345your worship for ever.
¶Gent. By my troth, an excellent Device.
¶derfully.
¶Gent. A my faith, I never heard a better.
¶Serjeant.
¶Put. O there's no talk on't, he's an excellent Schollar,
¶Gent. Give me your Paper, your Device; I was never
1355better pleas'd in all my life: good wit, brave wit, finely
¶You heard how he like't it now?
1360go thy wayes, thou art a fine witty fellow ifaith, thou
¶Pye. I, I, that I will,---look Serjeants, here are Maps,
¶ly have told out the money, you know.
1365Put. Go, go, little villain, fetch thy chinck, I begin
¶to love thee, I'le be drunk to night in thy company.
¶Pye. This Gentleman I may well call a part
¶For he has sav'd me from three hungry Devils.
1370
Exit George.
¶things, but I could nere fancie them yet, me thinks they're
¶all the World's in one of them, but I could nere find the
1375Counter in the Poultry.
¶you know there's a company of bare fellows there.
¶much before. Sirrah Serjeant, and Yeoman, I should
1385out of door in 'em, oh we might have'em in a morning to
¶ground a whole day for 'em.
1390Five pound receiv'd, let's talk of that.
1395full of hazard: what will you say if I bring it to pass, that
¶Put. Why I would call thee King of Serjeants, and
1400ever.
¶Ra. Well, put it to me, we'll make a Night on't ifaith.
¶so long.
¶Put. He tarries long indeed, may be, I can tell you,
1405upon the good liking on't the Gentleman may prove
¶more bountifull.
¶him light enough.
1410
Enter the Gentleman.
¶Ra. Oh here comes the Gentleman, by your leave, Sir.
1415ship.
¶Gen. Who? not the Schollar?
1420Rav. How, Sir?
¶Gen. I paid him his money, and my man told me he
¶went out at back-door.
¶Put. Back-door?
¶Gen. Why, what's the matter?
¶Gen. What he was not? you the Sheriff's Officers---
¶you were too blame then,
¶Why did you not make known to me as much;
¶I could have kept him for you, I protest,
1430He receiv'd all of me in Britain Gold,
¶Of the last coyning.
¶Ra Vengeance dog him with't.
1435Put. Sup Simon, now, eat Porridge for a month.
¶Well, we cannot impute it to any lack of good will in
¶your Worship,--you did but as another would have
¶done, 'twas our hard fortunes to miss the purchase, but
¶if e'er we clutch him again, the Counter shall charm him.
¶Gent. So,
¶Vex out your Lungs without doors, I am proud,
¶It was my hap to help him, it fell fit,
1445He went not empty neither for his wit:
¶Alas poor wretch, I could not blame his brain,
¶To labour his delivery, to be free,
¶From their unpittying fangs,--I'me glad it stood,
¶Within my power to do a Scholar good.
Exit.
1450
Enter in the Prison, meeting George and Captain,
¶
George coming in muffled.
¶Cap. How now, who's that? what are you?
1455thou in half-fac'd, muffled so?
¶agen, never spent frolick hour agen.
¶Cap. Why? why?
¶Pye. I coming to prepare thee, and with news
1460As happy as thy quick delivery,
¶think I'de upon me?
¶Three at once, three at once.
¶Our eyes in laughter: Captain, my device
¶Leans to thy happiness, for ere the day
¶What rests, is all in thee, to Conjure, Captain?
1480conjuring I can conjure.
¶Pye. The Devil of conjuring? nay by my fay, I'de not
¶have thee do so much, Captain, as the Devil a conjuring:
¶look here, I ha brought thee a Circle ready charactered
¶and all.
¶thou ever hear of a Captain conjure in thy life? dost call't
¶a Circle? 'tis too wide a thing, me thinks; had it been
1490Pye. Why every fool knowes that Captain: nay then
¶I'le not cog with you, Captain, if you'll stay and hang
¶Cap. No, by my faith, George, come, come, let's to
¶conjuring.
¶took pain to work it, and all means wrought to farther it,
¶of better hopes, and whereas before you were a Captain
¶or poor Souldier, to make you now a Commander of rich
¶allow you) safer then High-wayes, Heath, or Cony-groves,
¶and yet a far better booty; for your greatest thieves are
¶never hang'd, never hang'd; for why? they're wise, and
¶cheat within doores; and we geld fooles of more money
¶in a twelve-moneths running, which confirmes the old
¶that is, he that robs by a good fire.
¶lay, the old Knight will be here suddenly, I'le perfect
¶you, direct you, tell you the trick on't: 'tis nothing.
1515conjure? I shall be hang'd ere I conjure.
¶Pye. Nay, tell not me of that, Captain, you'll ne're
¶conjure after you're hang'd, I warrant you, look you, sir,
¶ground, then with a little conjuring ceremony, as I'le
¶you, then arriving in the circle, with a huge word, and a
¶tongue, and thunder with his heeles?
1525Cap. O yes, yes, yes; often, often.
¶the old Knights eyes: for you must note, that he'll ne're
¶dare to venture into the room, onely perhaps peep fear-
1530ward.
¶Capt. Well, I may go about it when I will, but mark
¶Key-hole, why the very thought of that would make me
1535laugh out-right, and spoile all: nay I'le tell thee, George,
¶when I apprehend a thing once, I am of such a laxative
¶laugh in his face.
¶fortune, as the death of thy Father ith' Countrey.
¶Cap. 'Sfoot, that would be the more to drive me into
¶I warrant thee, ne're fear me now: but how shall I doe,
¶George, for boysterous words, and horrible names?
1550go to a Pothecaries shop, and take all the words from the
¶Boxes.
¶they be ne're so poor when they begin? but here lies the
1555fear on't, how in this false conjuration, a true Devil
¶should pop up indeed.
¶a one, nay faith he that has this place, is as false a Knave
¶as our last Church-warden.
¶
The Cry at Marshalsea.
¶your relief:
¶Good Gentlemen over the way,---Good sir Godfrey?
1565Pye. He's come, he's come.
¶ty Hat---pray salute him intirely?
¶
They salute: and Pye-boord salutes Master Edmond.
1570Sir God. Now my friend.
¶mond your sir-name.
¶Edmond Plus is my full name at length.
¶made no meanes to me by acquaintance, I should have
¶utterly denyed to have been the man; both by reason of
1585the Act of Parliament against Conjurers and Witches,
¶and common.
¶Sir God. I much commend your care there, good
¶own house I may call it, for both our charges therein are
¶proportion'd.
¶you know,---
¶Sir God. You know? did you know't, Captain?
¶I may gather a knowledge of all things.---
¶Sir God. I very true.
1605tongue like Ship-pitch uoon a Mariners Gown, not to
¶this good comfort on't, if it be between heaven and earth,
¶Knight, I'le ha't for you?
1610Sir God. A wonderfull Conjurer,---O I, 'tis between
¶heaven and earth I warrant you, it cannot go out of the
¶Realm,---I know 'tis somewhere about the earth.
1615thing shall enter into heaven, you know.
¶on't, for you know he has a great Chain of his own.
¶off that now, that lyes by him.
¶upon the power of my Art, that I could warrant your
¶Chain agen.
¶Sir Godf. O dainty Captain!
¶Sir Godf. I, good man, I warrant thee.
¶you have not been us'd to't.
1630Sir Godf. No? have you not been us'd to't, Captain?
¶much the more, you know.
¶Sir Godf. Oh it will, it will.
1635Cap. What plunges he puts me to? were not this
¶sfoot I fear he will drivel't out before I come to't.--Now
1645Conjuring:
¶As thou shalt do the like at home for me:
¶Keeper.
¶
Enter Keeper.
1650Keep. Sir.
¶Sir Godf. Speak, is not this man free?
¶unexpected! oh there's nothing to a free Gentleman.--I
¶will Conjure for you, sir, 'till Froth come through my
¶Buffe-Jerkin.
¶Fourty five Angels shall appear unto thee.
¶sure of that, Sir?
1665Sir Godf. I, I, no, no; what's he yonder talking with
¶my wild Nephew, pray heaven he give him good counsel.
¶rable fellow, Knight, the finest Fortune-teller.
¶Sir Godf. Oh! 'tis he indeed, that came to my Lady
¶By your leave, Mr. Fortune-teller, I had a glimps of you
1675I was he that lost it.
¶ture.
¶Sir Godf. There's a Fortune indeed.
¶that foolishly, which the father got craftily; I, I, I;
¶'twill, 'twill, 'twill.
¶Pye. June, July; here, July, thats the month, Sunday
¶thirteen, yesterday fourteen, to day fifteen.
¶Cap. Look quickly for the fifteen day,--if within the
¶Pye. Here's the fifteen day,--Hot and fair.
¶Cap. Puh, would t'ad been, Hot and foul.
¶Cap. No luck.
¶Pye. But about high-noon, Lightning and thunder.
1705I'le Conjure to morrow just at high-noon, George.
¶Pye. Happen but true to morrow, Almanack, and I'le
¶give the leave to lye all the year after.
1710a Spirit into Lancashire tother day, to fetch back a knave
¶Drover, and I look for his return this evening--to mor-
¶row morning, my friend here, and I will come and break-
¶fast with you.
¶jure.
¶Sir Godf. Mid-noon will be a fit time for you.
¶Edm. Conjuring? do you mean to Conjure at our
¶house, to morrow, Sir?
¶man.
¶Edm. By my troth, I'le love you while I live for't: ô
¶rare! Nicholas, we shall have Conjuring to morrow.
¶Nic. Puh I, I could ha told you of that.
1725Cap. Law, he could ha told him of that, fool, coxcomb,
¶could ye?
¶you can Conjure; but can you fetch any that is lost?
¶Conjurer; I should marry a Pothecaries Daughter, and
¶ford: now if you'll do but so much as Conjure for't, and
1735make all whole agen---
¶Cap. That I will, Sir.
¶Edm. By my troth I thank you, la.
1740Captain, and you, sir; we'll e'en part with a gallon of
¶wine 'till to morrow break-fast.
1745dred Brownists.
¶Nic. Am I indeed, la: I thank you heartily, la.
¶
Exeunt.
¶
Actus Quartus.
¶
Enter Moll, and Sir John Penny-Dub.
¶at your pleasure; what doe you think I was dubb'd for
¶nothing, no by my faith Ladies daughter.
1755while, I have a heart to marry as you can have; but as
¶the Fortune-teller told me.
¶Penny. Pax-oth' Fortune-teller, would Derrick had
¶did he know what case I was in? why this is able to make
¶Moll. And then he told me moreover, Sir John, that
¶the breach of it, kept my Father in Purgatory.
¶Penny. In Purgatory? why let him purge out his heart
¶there, what have we to doe with that? there's Physicians
1765enow there to cast his water, is that any matter to us?
¶how can he hinder our love? why let him be hang'd now
¶he's dead?---Well, have I rid post day and night, to
¶bring you merry newes of my Fathers death, and now---
¶Moll. Thy Fathers death? is the old Farmer dead?
1770Penny. As dead as his Barn door, Moll.
¶John, that I shall have my Coach and my Coach-man?
¶Penny. I faith.
1775draw it?
¶Penny. Too.
¶veries to come trashing after't.
¶ther I will.
¶Pen. All this.
¶made sure together before the Maids oth' Kitchin.
Exe.
1785
Enter Widow with her eldest Daughter, Franck,
¶
and Frailty.
¶Wid. How now? where's my Brother Sir Godfrey?
¶went he forth this morning?
1790sir reverence a Conjurer.
¶Wid. A Conjurer? what manner of fellow is he?
¶strongly made upward, for he goes in a Buff-Jerkin: he
¶sayes he will fetch Sir Godfrey's Chain agen, if it hang
1795between heaven and earth.
¶Wid. What he will not? then he's an exlent fellow I
¶warrant: how happy were that woman to be blest with
1800cheeks, and smoaky eye-browes.
¶nor black, nor nothing, I tell you, Madam, he looks as
¶once, you'de take him to be a Christian.
¶dred at, mother.
¶
Enter Sir Andrew Muck-hill, and Sir An-
¶
drew Tipstaffe.
¶Wid. Coades, what do you mean, Gentlemen? fie,
¶did I not give you your answers?
¶Muck. Sweet Lady?
¶come agen when you know my mind, so well deliver'd---
1820as a Widow could deliver a thing.
¶your suit quite and clean when you came to me again?
¶how say you? did I not?
¶you----
¶Wid. Go to, I'le cut you off; and Sir Oliver to put
¶you in comfort, afar off, my fortune is read me, I must
¶marry again.
¶out well.
¶
Enter Frailty.
¶Frail. O Madam, Madam.
¶lantly, I'le bring you to Court, wean you among the fair
¶Franck. It will doe very well.
¶Wid. What, do's he mean to Conjure here then? how
¶tlemen to walk a while ith' Garden, to gather a pinck, or
1845a Jillly-flower.
¶vour'd.
Exit.
¶clear?
¶Sir God. Then enter Captain Conjurer:---now
¶how like you our Room, sir?
¶
Enter Sir Godfrey, Captain, Pye-boord, Edmond,
¶
Nicholas.
1855Cap. O wonderfull convenient.
¶a Room to Conjure in, me thinks,---why you may bid,
¶I cannot tell how many Devils welcome in't; my Father
1860has had twenty in't at once!
¶Pye. What Devils?
¶could get.
¶comes o're my stomack.
1870and tear the hangings.
¶Cap. Fuh, I warrant you, Sir Godfrey.
¶and 'twill quickly take hold a the laths: and if he chance
1875to spit downward too, he will burn all the boards.
¶Cap. My life for yours, Sir Godfrey.
¶Sir Godf. Why I thank you, good Captain, pray have a
¶care I,--fall to your Circle, we'll not trouble you I war-
¶rant you, come, we'll into the next room, and because
1885we'll be sure to keep him out there, we'll bar up the door
¶with some of the Godlies Zealous works.
¶the ground shall be as holy as the door, I'le tear two or
1890Chamber: Oh! the Divil already.
runs in. Thunders.
¶lightens and thunders before thou wilt begin, why when?
¶Cap. Pray peace, George,--thou'lt make me laugh
¶anon, and spoil all.
1895Pye. Oh, now it begins agen; now, now, now! Captain.
¶Plois.
¶
Sir Godfrey through the key-hole, within.
¶Sir Godf. Oh admirable Conjurer! has fetcht Thunder
1900already.
¶Pye. Hark hark, agen Captain.
¶Sir Godf. Oh, I would the Devil would come away
1905Pye. Agen.
¶podge.
¶stroy all the fruits of the earth, and tread upon my corn
¶oh, i'th' Countrey.
¶te coome park.
1920Sir God. He drips and drops, poor man: alas, alas.
¶Pye. Now, I come.
¶Cap. O Sulphure Sootface.
¶quickly, quickly.
goes in.
¶nough: allow us some time to laugh a little, they're
1930were in their kidneyes.
¶Cap. Sirrah George, how was't, how was't? did I do't
¶well enough?
¶jurer, for here was no harm in this; and yet their horri-
¶to Thunder and Lightning at this time, it grac'st you well,
¶I can tell you.
¶ha convey'd hither cleanly a cracker, or a fire-wheel,
1940t'ad been admirable.
¶Pye. Blurt, blurt, there's nothing remains to put thee
¶to pain now, Captain.
¶a Whison Morris-dancer's.
¶dayes.
¶Ca. But I fear, that fox Nicholas has reveal'd it already.
1950now: Nay 'tis time, call upon 'em, take pitty on 'em, for
¶Sir Godf. Oh, is that the Devil's voice? how comes
1955he to know my name?
¶Cap. Fear not, Sir Godfrey, all's quieted.
¶Sir Godf. What, is he laid?
¶Cap. Laid: and has newly dropt
¶Your chain i'th' Garden.
1960Sir Godf. I'th' Garden! in our Garden?
¶Cap. Your Garden.
1965there's my chain he sayes.
1970out danger, think you?
¶Fear nothing, pray come near, - how now, man?
¶windows.
¶Edm. I would you could make me believe that, ifaith,
¶yet I take it kindly from you, because you would not
¶put me in a fear, ifaith: a my troth I shall love you for
¶this the longest day of my life.
1985more.
¶Edm. Mass, now I remember, I'le look whether he
¶has singed the hangings, or no.
¶make him believe, you'll charm him invisible, he's apt to
1990admire any thing, you see, let me alone to give force to't.
¶Cap. Go, retire to yonder end then.
1995wand thrice ore your head, and charm you invisible.
¶man? I should laugh at that ifaith; troth I'le require your
¶kindness, an you'll do't, good Captain Conjurer.
¶more but this, and thus agen, and now y'are invisible.
¶Edm. Am I faith? who would think it?
¶a'th'chamber, go toward him, do what you will with him,
2005he shall nere find you.
¶
Pulls him by the Nose.
¶Edm. Troth this is exlent, I may do any knavery now
2015frey my Uncle abus'd me tother day, and told tales of me
¶to my Mother---Troth now I'me invisible, I'le hit
¶den,---I may be reveng'd on him now finely.
¶
Enter Sir Godfrey, Widow, Frank, Nicho-
2020
las with the Chain.
¶Sir Godf. I have my Chain again, my Chain's found
¶again,
Edmond strikes him.
¶O sweet Captain, O admirable Conjurer.
¶Oh, what mean you by that, Nephew?
2025Edm. Nephew? I hope you do not know me, Uncle?
¶Why did you not see me, when I did uncharme you?
2030Edm. Not I, by my troth, Captain:
¶Then pray you pardon me, Uncle,
¶And were I not ore-come with greater joy,
2035I'de make you taste correction.
¶Mother, shall think to whip me as you have done.
¶to thank you, let me embrace you, O my sweet Chain,
¶cunning, cunning!
¶let me marry a man of wit, a man of parts, here's a wor[-}
2045thy Captain, and 'tis a fine Title truly la to be a Cap-
¶tain's Wife, a Captain's Wife, it goes very finely, beside
¶all the world knows that a worthy Captain, is a fit Com-
¶panion to any Lord, then why not a sweet bed-fellow
¶for any Lady,---I'le have it so--------
2050
Enter Frailty.
¶coming along this way.
¶Frail. Oh, one going to burying, and another going
2055to hanging.
¶Pye. 'Sfoot Captain, I'le pawn my life the Corporal's
¶and 'tis now about the time of his waking; hold out a
¶miration; for I'le take upon me the cure of him.
¶
Enter the Coffin of the Corporal, the souldier bound,
¶
and led by Officers, the Sheriff there,
¶Frail. Oh here they come, here they come!
¶that fought and bled before our door.
¶Yon man is bound to execution,
¶Because he wounded this that now lies coffin'd?
¶the law.
¶then?
¶not cure him to his proper health again.
Frank comes to him.
¶sible venture.
2090Let me entreat the corps to be set down.
¶and worthy Stoes Chronicle.
2095ral warmth: nay good Corporal wake betime, or I shall
¶dead indeed now, he were fully reveng'd 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,
¶Sher. Oh, oh, defend us---out alas.
¶else,--he knows no body yet.
¶did, as soon as he came to life again.
¶lay on a dozen of Fagots in the Moon Parler, there.
¶ifaith, and send him into your Kitchin fire.
¶ty
, help to bear him in.
¶Nic. Bear him in, quatha, pray call out the Maids, I
2115shall nere have the heart to do't indeed la.
¶of all men.
2120Frai. Why, we're as fearfull as you I warrant you--oh--
¶quickly, quickly.
Exeunt, pushing in the corps.
2125you.
¶men within the walls of Christendome.
2130you, set him free, all's in tune.
¶Sheriffe, to which I most cheerfully invite you, and your
¶no more words, 'twas lost and is found again; come, my
2135inestimable Bullies, we'll talk of your noble Acts in
¶Which first begot it,--now love play thy part;
¶The Schollar reads his lecture in my heart.
¶
Actus Quintus.
¶
Enter in haste Master Edmond and Frailty.
2145Edm. This is the Marriage morning for my Mother
¶and my Sister.
¶ings.
¶Edm. Nay go, Frailty, run to the Sexton, you know
2150my mother will be married at Saint Antlings, hie thee, 'tis
¶most ready.
2155run 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.
2160Fra. What, more yet?
¶the Church.
¶Ed. Away, away, away, away then.
¶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
2170a woman, and then the Schollar, Master Pye-boord for
¶Table I warrant you: Now all the Knights noses are put
¶out of joynt, they may go to a Bone-setters now.
2175
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;
2180'slid, they have hir'd men and all by the Clock.
¶Edmond.
¶fume ifaith.
¶you: for they were at their Torch e'ne now, by the same
¶token I tumbled down the staires.
¶
Enter Musicians.
¶call 'em in and liquor 'em a little.
2195make each of them as drunk as a common Fidler.
¶
Exeunt omnes.
¶
Enter Sir John Penny-Dub, and Moll above lacing
¶
of her cloathes.
2200Moll. 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?
2205Pen. 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 a-
¶bove.
¶note the nature of the Climates: your Northern Wench
¶teen, but if she touch the South once, and come up to
¶London, here the Chimes go presently after twelve.
2215Pen. O th'art a mad Wench, Moll, but I prethee
¶Moll. Do you follow him, I'le not be long after.
¶
Exeunt.
¶
Enter Sir Oliver Muck-hill, Sir Andrew Tipstaffe,
2220
and old Skirmish talking.
¶Countrey, in my life.
2225words?
¶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 ad[-}
2230their abuses, this morning they are to be married.
¶Muck. 'Tis too true, yet if the Widow be not too
¶their villanies will make 'em loathsome, and to that end,
2235nourable personage, to whom I am much indebted in
¶the payment of his tongue, and that he will lay out good
2240may 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.
¶fore into his mouth we'll put the approved theame of
¶their forgeries.
2250
Enter a Servant.
¶Muck. How now, fellow.
¶from his Coach.
¶Muck. Is my Lord come already? his honour's early:
2255You 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
2260them, Sir Godfrey and Edmond, Widow changed in ap-
¶parel, 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.
¶Nob. Madam, though I came now from Court, I come
¶but upon your own forehead, that know not Ink from
2270headed woman that's a Widow. For it is the property
¶of all you that are Widows (a handfull excepted) to hate
¶to doat on those, that onely love you to undoe you: who
¶and evilly Planeted; whom Fortune beats most, whom
¶rules your blouds. An impudent fellow best woos you, a
¶grooms.
¶Wid. Deceitfull--
¶Pye. All will out.
2290cholas.
¶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
2295knavery, deceit, and cozenage.
¶band with all his craft, could not keep himself out of
¶Purgatory:
2300be gon, and my Taylor had none of it.
¶tyed from Marriage, having such a mind to't: come Sir
¶John Penny-dub, fair weather on our side, the Moon has
2305Pye. 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
¶all their Plot in anger.
¶eyes open?
¶too soon you believed true?
¶Sir Godf. But under favour, my Lord, my Chain was
2320Gull of all.
¶Sir Godf. How, Sir?
¶Skir. Nay I'le prove it: for the Chain was but hid
¶him out of prison to Conjure for it, who did it admirably
2325fustianly, 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
2330Swear, 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?
2335Soon we'll kill a man, then Steal, thou know'st.
¶Out Slave, I'le rend my Lyon from thy back---with mine
¶own hands.
¶Nob. Nay Knight, dwell in patience.
2340And now, Widow, being so near the Church, 'twere
¶the fair margent of a Scholar: for I honour worthy and
¶the other. Come Lady, and you Virgin, bestow your eyes
2350both in Court and City, that have long wooed you, and
¶both with their hearts and wealth, sincerely love you.
¶are men of reputation, you shall be welcome at Court: a
¶Wid. I know not with what face.
¶Wid Pardon me, worthy Sirs, I and my daughter have
¶wrong'd your loves.
¶If you vouchsafe it now.
¶Fran. And I, with all my heart.
2365Sir Godf. They ar
e 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.
2370Come, 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.
¶
FINIS
