MOLL.

No, by my faith, Sir John, I'll keep you down, for you Knights are very dangerous in once you get above.

PENNYDUB.

I'll not stay, ifaith.

MOLL.

Ifaith, you shall stay, for, Sir John, you must note the nature of the Climates: your Northern wench in her own Country may well hold out till she be fifteen, but if she touch the South once, and come up to London, here the Chimes go presently after twelve.

PENNYDUB.

O th'art a mad wench, Moll, but I pree thee make haste, for the priest is gone before.

MOLL.

Do you follow him, I'll not be long after.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. A room in Sir Oliver Muckhill's house.

[Enter Sir Oliver Muckhill, Sir Andrew Tipstaff, and old Skirmish talking.]

MUCK.

O monstrous, un-heard of forgery.

TIP.

Knight, I never heard of such villainy in our own country in my life.

MUCH.

Why, 'tis impossible; dare you maintain your words?

SKIRMISH.

Dare we? een to their wezen pipes. We know all their plots, they cannot squander with us; they have knavishly abused us, made only properties on's to advance their selves upon our shoulders, but they shall rue their abuses. This morning they are to be married.

MUCK.

Tis too true; yet if the Widdow be not too much besotted on slights and forgeries, the revelation of their villainies will make 'em loathsome: and to that end, be it in private to you, I sent late last night to an honorable personage, to whom I am much indebted in kindness, as he is to me, and therefore presume upon the payment of his tongue, and that he will lay out good words for me: and to speak truth, for such needful occasions, I only preserve him in bond, and some-times he may do 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 t'other.

TIP.

In troth, Sir, without soothing be it spoken, you have publisht much judgment in these few words.

MUCK.

For you know, what such a man utters will be though effectual and to weighty purpose, and therefore into his mouth we'll put the approved theme of their forgeries.

SKIRMISH.

And I'll maintain it, Knight, if ye'll be true.

[Enter a servant.]

MUCK.

How now, fellow?

SERVANT.

May it please you, Sir, my Lord is newly lighted from his Coach.

MUCK.

Is my Lord come already? His honor's early.

You see he loves me well: up before seven!

Trust me, I have found his night capt at eleven.

There's good hope yet; come, I'll relate all to him.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE IV. A street; a church appearing.

[Enter the two Bridegrooms, Captain and Scholar; after them, Sir G.o.dfrey and Edmond, Widdow changed in apparel, Mistress Frances led between two Knights, Sir John Pennydub and Moll: there meets them a n.o.ble man, Sir Oliver Muckhill, and Sir Andrew Tipstaff.]

n.o.bLE.

By your leave, Lady.

WIDOW.

My Lord, your honour is most chastely welcome.

n.o.bLE.

Madam, tho I came now from court, I come now from court, I come not to flatter you: upon whom can I justly cast this blot, but upon your own forehead, that know not ink from milk? such is the blind besotting in the state of an unheaded woman that's a widdow. For it is the property of all you that are widdowes (a hand full excepted) to hate those that honestly and carefully love you, to the maintenance of credit, state, and posterity, and strongly to dote on those, that only love you to undo you: who regard you least are best regarded, who hate you most are best beloved. And if there be but one man amongst ten thousand millions of men that is accurst, disastrous, and evilly planeted, whom Fortune beats most, whom G.o.d hates most, and all Societies esteem least, that man is sure to be a husband.--Such is the peevish Moon that rules your bloods. An Impudent fellow best woes you, a flattering lip best wins you, or in a mirth who talks roughliest is most sweetest; nor can you distinguish truth from forgeries, mists from Simplicity: witness those two deceitful monsters that you have entertaind for bride-grooms.

WIDOW.

Deceitful!

PYE.

All will out.

CAPTAIN.

Sfoot, who has blabd, George? that foolish Nicholas?

n.o.bLE.

For what they have besotted your easy blood withall wear nought but forgeries: the fortune telling for husbands, the conjuring for the chain Sir G.o.dfrey heard the falshod of: all mere knavery, deceit, and coozenage.

WIDOW.

O wonderful! Indeed I wondred that my husband with all his Craft could not keep himself out of purgatory.

SIR G.o.dFREY.

And I more wonder that my chain should be gone and my Tailor had none of it.

MOLL.

And I wondred most of all that I should be tied from marriage, having such a mind too't. Come, Sir John Pennydub, fair weather on our side; the moon has changed since yester night.

PYE.