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

734these Archers, what do you call'em Shooters: Shooters

735and Archers are all one I hope.

736Wid. Out ignorant slave.

737Muck. Nay, pray be patient Lady,

738We come in way of honorable love.

739Tipst. Penny. We do.

740Muck. To you.

741Tipst. Penny. And to your Daughters.

742Wid.O why will you offer me this, Gentlemen? in-

743deed I will not look upon you; when the tears are scarce

744out of mine eyes, not yet washt off from my cheeks, and

745my deer husbands body scarce so cold as the Coffin, what

746reason have you to offer it? I am not like some of your

747Widows that will bury one in the evening, and be sure

748to another ere morning; pray away, pray take your an-

749swers good Knights, and you be sweet Knights, I have

750vow'd never to marry;---and so have my daughters too!

751Penny. I, two of you have, but the third's a good wench!

752Muck. Lady, a shrewd answer marry; the best is, 'tis

753but the first, and he's a blunt wooer, that will leave for

754one sharp answer.

755Tip. Where be your Daughters Lady, I hope they'll

756give us better encouragements?

757Wid. Indeed they'll answer you so, take't a my word

758they'll give you the very same answer Verbatim truly la.

759Penny. Mum: Moll's a good wench still, I know what

760she'll do?

761Muck. Well, Lady, for this time we'll take our leaves,

762hoping for better comfort.

763Wid. O never, never: and I live these thousand years;

764and you be good Knights, do not hope; 'twill be all Vain,

765Vain,----look you put off all your suits, and you come to

766me again.

767Frail. Put of all their suits, quatha? I that's the best

768wooing of a Widdow indeed, when a man's Nonsuted,

769that is, when he's a bed with her.

771Muck. Sir Godfrey? here's twenty Angels more, work

773Sir Godf. Fear not Sir Oliver Muckhill, I'le stick

774close for you, leave all w

ith me.

776Pye. By your leave Lady Widow.

777Wid. What another suiter now?

778Pye. A suiter, no, I protest Lady? if you'd give me

779your self, I'de not be troubled with you.

780Wid. Say you so Sir, then you're the better welcome sir.

781Pye. Nay, Heaven blesse me from a Widow, unlesse I

782were sure to bury her speedily!

783Wid. Good bluntnesse: well, your businesse, si?

784Pye. Very needfull; if you were in private once.

785Wid. Needfull? Brother, pray leave us; and you sir.

786Frail. I should laugh now, if this blunt fellow should

787put'em all beside the stirrop, and vault into the saddle

790Wid. Now Sir?---here's none but wee----Daughters

791forbear.

792Pye. O no, pray let'em stay, for what I have to speak

793importeth equally to them as you?

794Wid. Then you may stay.

795Pye. I pray bestow on me a serious ear,

796For what I speak is full of weight and fear.

797Wid. Fear?

798Pye. I, if't passe unregarded, and uneffected,

799Else peace and joy:---I pray Attention.

800Widow, I have been a meer stranger for these parts that

801you live in, nor did I ever know the Husband of you,

802and Father of them, but I truly know by certain spiritual

803Intelligence, that he is in Purgatory.

804Wid. Purgatory? tuh; that word deserves to be spit

805upon; I wonder that a man of sober tongue, as you seem

806to be, should have the folly to believe there's such a place.

807Pye. Well Lady, in cold bloud I speak it, I assure you

808that there is a Purgatory, in which place I know your

809husband to recide, and wherein he is like to remain, till

810the dissolution of the world, till the last general Bon-fire:

811when all the earth shall melt into nothing, and the Seas

812scald their finny labourers: so long is his abidance, un-

813lesse you alter the property of your purpose, together with

814each of your Daughters theirs, that is, the purpose of sin-

815gle life in your self and your eldest Daughter, and the

816speedy determination of marriage in your youngest.

817Moll. How knows he that, what, has some Devil told

818him?

819Wid. Strange he should know our thoughts:------

820Why but Daughter, have you purpos'd speedy Marriage?

821Pye. You see she tells you I, she sayes nothing.

822Nay, give me credit as you please, I am a stranger to you,

823and yet you see I know your determinations, which

824must come to me metaphisically, and by a super-natural

825intelligence.

826Wid. This puts amazement on me.

827Frank. Know our secrets?

828Mol. I'de thought to steal a marriage, would his tongue

829Had dropt out when he blab'd it.

830Wid. But sir, my husband was too honest a dealing

831man, to be now in any Purgatories-----

832Pye. O do not load your conscience with untruths,

833'Tis but meer folly now to gild'em ore:

834That has past but for Copper; Praises here,

835Cannot unbind him there: confesse but truth,

836I know he got his wealth with a hard gripe:

837Oh hardly, hardly.

838Wid. This is most strange of all, how knows he that?

839Pye. He would eat fools and ignorant heirs clean up;

840And had his drink from many a poor mans brow,

841Even as their labour brew'd it.

842He would scrape riches to him most unjustly;

843The very dirt between his nails was ill got

844And not his own,---oh

845I groan to speak on't, the thought makes me shudder!---

846shudder!

847Wid. It quakes me too, now I think on't---sir, I am

848much griev'd, that you a stranger, should so deeply wrong

849my dead husband!

850Pye-board. Oh?

851Wid. A man that would keep Church so duly; rise

852early before his servants, and e'en for Religious hast, go

853ungarter'd, unbutton'd, nay sir Reverence untrust, to

854Morning Prayer?

855Pye. Oh uff.

856Wid. Dine quickly upon high-dayes, and when I had

857great guesse, would e'en shame me, and rise from the Ta-

858ble, to get a good seat at an after-noon Sermon.

859Pye. 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

861done in a Pue, or undone his Neighbour, so t'ad bin

862near enough to th' Preacher, Oh!---a Sermon's a fine

863short Cloak of an hour long, and will hide the upper part

864of a dissembler,--Church, I, he seem'd all Church, and

865his conscience was as hard as the Pulpit.

866Wid. I can no more endure this.

867Pye. Nor I, Widow,

868Endure to flatter.

869Wid. Is this all your business with me?

870Pye. No, Lady, 'tis but the induction to't,

871You may believe my strains, I strike all true.

872And if your conscience would leap up to your tongue,

873your self would affirm it, and that you shall perceive

874I know of things to come, as well as I do of what is pre-

875sent; a Brother of your husband's shall shortly have a

876loss.

877Wid. A loss? marry Heaven forfend, Sir Godfrey, my

878Brother!

879Pye. Nay, keep in your wonders, 'till I have told you

880the fortunes of you all; which are more fearfull, if not

881happily prevented,--for your part and you: Daughters, if

882there be not once this day some bloud-shed before your

883door, whereof the humane creature dyes, of you two the

884elder shall run mad.

885Mother & Frank. Oh!

886Mol. That's not I yet.

887Pye. And with most impudent prostitution, show your

888naked Bodies to the view of all beholders.

889Wid. Our naked Bodies? fie for shame.

890Pye. Attend me, and your younger Daughter be

891strucken dumb.

892Mol. Dumb? out alas; 'tis the worst pain of all for

893a Woman, I'de rather be mad, or run naked, or any

894thing: dumb?

895Pye. Give ear: ere the evening fall upon Hill, Bog,

896and Meadow, this my speech shall have past probation,

897and then shall I be believed accordingly.

898Widow. If this be true, we are all sham'd, all un-

899done.

900Mol. Dumb? I'le speak as much as ever I can possi-

901ble before evening.

902Pye. But if it so come to pass (as for your fair sakes I

903wish it may) that this presage of your strange fortunes

904be prevented by that accident of death and bloud-shed-

905ding, which I before told you of; take heed upon your

906lives, that two of you which have vow'd never to marry,

907seek out Husbands with all present speed, and you the

908third, that have such a desire to outstrip Chastity, look

909you meddle not with a Husband.

910Moll. A double Torment.

911Pye. The breach of this keeps your Father in Purga-

912tory, and the punishments that shall follow you in this

913world, would with horrour kill the ear should hear 'em

914related.

915Wid. Marry? why I vow'd never to marry.

916Frank. And so did I.

917Moll. And I vow'd never to be such an Ass, but to

918marry: what a cross Fortune's this?

919Pye. Ladies, though I be a Fortune-teller, I cannot bet-

920ter Fortunes, you have'em from me as they are revealed

921to me: I would they were to your tempers, and fellows

922with your blouds, that's all the bitterness I would you.

923Widow. Oh! 'tis a just vengeance, for my Husband's

924hard purchases.

925Pye. I wish you to bethink your selves, and leave'em.

926Wid. I'le to Sir Godfrey my Brother, and acquaint

927him with these fearfull presages.

928Frank. For, Mother, they portend losses to him.

929Wid. Oh I, they do, they do;

930If any happy issue crown thy words,

931I will reward thy cunning.

932Pye. 'Tis enough, Lady,

933I wish no higher. Exit.

934Moll. Dumb? and not Marry? worse,

936Pye. So, all this comes well about yet, I play the Fortune-

937teller, as well as if I had had a Witch to my Grannam:

938for by good happinesse, being in my Hostesses Gar-

939den, which neighbours the Orchard of the Widow, I

940laid the hole of mine ear to a hole in the wall, and heard

941'em make these Vowes, and speak those words, upon which

942I wrought these advantages; and to encourage my for-

943gerie the more, I may now perceive in 'em a natural sim-

944plicitie which will easily swallow an abuse, if any cover-

945ing be over it: and to confirm my former presage to the

946Widow, I have advis'd old Peter Skirmish the Souldier,

947to hurt Corporal Oath upon the Leg, and in that hurry,

948I'le rush amongst'em, and in stead of giving the Corpo-

949ral some Cordial to comfort him, I'le pour into his mouth

950a potion of a sleepy nature, and make him seem as dead;

951for the which the old Souldier being apprehended, and

952ready to be borne to execution, I'le step in, and take upon

953me the cure of the dead man, upon pain of dying the

954condemned's death: the Corporal will wake at his mi-

955nute, when the sleepy force hath wrought it self, and so

956shall I get my self into a most admired opinion, and under

957the pretext of that cunning, beguile as I see occasion:

958and if that foolish Nicholas Saint Tantlings keep true

959time with the Chain, my plot will be sound, the Captain

960delivered, and my wits applauded among Schollars and