WAG. I should ne'er have known you by that, for you wear it on your head, and other folks in their pockets.

L. NIN. Which is my lord, I pray?

SIR J. WOR. The second man: Young Nevill leads.

SIR INN. And where's Sir Abraham?

SIR J. WOR. He with the terrible visage.

L. NIN. Now, out upon him to disfigure himself so: And 'twere not for my bottle, I should swoon.

[_Music, and they dance the second strain, in which_ SCUDMORE _goes away with_ BELLAFRONT.

OMNES SPECTATORES. Good, very good!

[_The other four dance another strain, honour and end._

C. FRED. But where's the bride and Nevill?

OMNES. Ha!

ABRA. 'Ware tricks!

SIR J. WOR. O, there they come: it was their parts to do so.

_Enter_ SCUDMORE _unvizarded_, BELLAFRONT, _with pistols and the right Parson_.

C. FRED. This Nevill? This is Scudmore.

OMNES. How?

C. FRED. But here's my lady.

SCUD. No, my gentlewoman.

ABRA. 'Zoons! treason! I smell powder.

BEL. In short, know, That I am married to this gentleman, To whom I was contracted long ago.

This priest the inviolable knot hath tied.

What ease I find being unladified! [_Aside._]

C. FRED. What riddle's this?

SIR INN. 'Ware the last statute of two husbands.

SCUD. and BEL. Pish!

C. FRED. This is the very priest that married me: Is it not, sister?

_Enter_ NEVILL, _like the Parson too_.

NEV. No.

ABRA. Lord bless us! here is conjuring!

Lend me your aqua-vitae bottle, good mother.

SIR J. WOR. Heyday!

The world's turn'd upside down. I have heard and seen Two or three benefices to one priest, or more, But two priests to one benefice ne'er before.

PEN. Married not you the earl?

PAR. _Bona fide_, no.

SIR J. WOR. You did, then?

NEV. Yes.

C. FRED. I have the privilege, then?

SIR J. WOR. Right, you were married first.

SCUD. Sir John, you doat, This is a devil in a parson's coat.

[NEVILL _puts off the Priest's weeds, and has a devil's robe under_.

OMNES. A pretty emblem!

NEV. Who married her, or would have caus'd her marry, To any man but this, no better was; Let circ.u.mstances be examined.

Yet here's one more: and now I hope you all Perceive my marrying not canonical. [_Slips off his devil's weeds._

OMNES. Nevill, whoop!

C. FRED. Heart! what a deal of knavery a priest's cloak can hide. If it be not one of the honestest, friendliest cozenages that 'ere I saw, I am no lord.

KATH. Life! I am not married, then, in earnest.

NEV. So, Mistress Kate, I kept you for myself.

SIR J. WOR. It boots not to be angry.

SIR INN. _and_ LADY. No, faith, Sir John.

_Enter_ STRANGE, _with_ POUTS _on his back_.

2D. SER. Whither will you go with your calf on your back, sir?

SIR J. WOR. Now, more knavery yet?

STRANGE. Prythee, forbear, or I shall do thee mischief.

By your leave, here is some sad to your merriment.

Know you this captain?