612Pye. And thou, old Peter Skirmish, I have a necessary

613task for you both.

614Skir. Lay't upon George Pye-bord.

615Corp. What e're it be, we'll manage it.

616Pye. I would have you two maintain a quarrell before

617the Lady Widdowes door, and draw your Swords ith'edge

618of the Evening: clash a little, clash, clash.

619Corp. Fuh.

620Let us alone to make our Blades ring noon,

621Though it be after supper.

622Pye. I know you can;

623And out of that false fire, I doubt not but to raise strange

624belief--and, Captain, to countenance my device the bet-

625ter, and grace my words to the Widow, I have a good

626plain Sattin Sute, that I had of a young Reveller tother

627night, for words pass not regarded now a dayes, unless they

628come from a good suit of cloathes, which the Fates and my

629wits have bestowed upon me. Well, Captain Idle, if I

630did not highly love thee, I would ne're be seen within

631twelve score of a prison, for I protest at this instant, I

632walk in great danger of small debts; I owe money to se-

633verall Hostesses, and you know such Jills will quickly be

634upon a mans Jack.

635Capt. True, George?

636Pye. Fare thee well, Captain. Come Corporall and

637Ancient, thou shalt hear more newes next time we greet

638thee.

639Corp. More newes? I, by yon Bear at Bridge-Foot in

641Capt. Enough: my friends farewell,

642This prison shewes as if Ghosts did part in Hell.

644Moll. Not marry? forswear marriage? why all wo-

645men know 'tis as honourable a thing as to lie with a man;

646and I to spight my Sisters vow the more, have entertain'd

647a Suiter already, a fine Gallant Knight of the last Fea-

648ther, he sayes he will Coach me too, and well appoint me,

649allow me money to Dice withall, and many such pleasing

650protestations he sticks upon my lips: indeed his short-winded

651Father ith' Countrey is wondrous wealthy, a most

652abominable Farmer, and therefore he may dote in time:

653troth I'le venter upon him; women are not without

654wayes enough to help themselves: if he prove wise and

655good as his word, why I shall love him, and use him

656kindly; and if he prove an Asse, why in a quarter of an

657houres warning I can transform him into an Oxe;----

658there comes in my relief again.

660Frail. O, Mistresse Moll, Mistresse Moll.

661Moll. How now? what's the newes?

662Frail. The Knight your Suiter, Sir John Penny-Dub.

663Moll. Sir John Penny-Dub? where? where?

664Frail. He's walking in the Gallery.

665Moll. Has my Mother seen him yet?

666Frail. O no, she's---spitting in the Kitchin.

667Moll. Direct him hither softly, good Frailty,

668I'le meet him half way.

669Frail. That's just like running a Tilt; but I hope he'll

670break nothing this time.

672Moll. 'Tis happinesse my Mother saw him not:

673O welcome, good Sir John.

674Penny-Dub. I thank you faith,---Nay you must stand

675me till I kisse you: 'tis the fashion every where ifaith,

676and I came from Court enow.

677Moll. Nay the Fates forfend that I should anger the

678fashion?

679Penny. Then not forgetting the sweet of new cere-

680monies, I first fall back, then recovering my self; make

681my honour to your lip thus: and then accost it.

682Moll. Trust me, very pretty, and moving, y'are wor-

683thy on't, sir.

684O my Mother, my Mother, now she's here,

687Sir Godf. Nay, Sister, let Reason rule you, doe not

688play the foole, stand not in your own light, you have

689wealthy offers, large tendrings, doe not withstand your

690good fortune: who comes a wooing to you I pray? no

691small fool, a rich Knight oth' City, Sir Oliver Muck-hill,

692no small fool I can tell you: and furthermore as I heard late

693by your Maid-servants (as your Maid-servants will say

694to me any thing, I thank 'em) both your Daughters are

695not without Suiters, I, and worthy ones too; one a brisk

696Courtier, Sir Andrew Tip-staffe, suiter afar off to your

697eldest Daughter, and the third a huge wealthy Farmers

698Son, a fine young Country Knight, they call him Sir

699John Penny-Dub, a good name marry, he may have it

700coyn'd when he lacks money: what blessings are these,

701Sister?

702Wid. Tempt me not, Satan.

703Sir God. Satan? doe I look like Satan? I hope the

704Devil's not so old as I, I trow.

705Wid. You wound my sences, Brother, when you name

706A suiter to me,---oh I cannot abide it,

707I take in poyson when I hear one nam'd.

709How now, Simon? where's my son Edmond?

710Sim. Verily, Madam, he is at vain Exercise, dripping

711in the Tennis-Court.

712Wid. At Tennis-Court? oh, now his Father's gone,

713I shall have no rule with him; oh wicked Edmond, I

714might well compare this with the Prophecy in the Chro-

715nicle, though far inferiour, as Harry of Monmouth won

716all, and Harry of Windsor lost all; so Edmond of Bris-

717towthat was the Father, got all, and Edmond of London

718that's his son now, will spend all.

719Sir Godf. Peace, sister, we'll have him reform'd, there's

720hope on him yet, though it be but a little.

722Frail. Forsooth Madam; there are two or three Ar-

723chers at door would very gladly speak with your Ladi-

724ship.

725Wid. Archers?

726Sir God. Your Husbands Fletcher I warrant.

727Wid. Oh,

728Let them come near, they bring home things of his,

729Troth I should ha forgot 'em, how now?

730Villain, which be those Archers?

733Frail. Why, do you not see 'em before you? are not