Imatges de pÓgina
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-out, alas.

Sher. How, Sir 3 recover a dead Man? That were most strange of all. [Frances comes to him.

Fran. Sweet Sir, I love you dearly, and could wish my best part yours,

O do not undertake such an impos. fible venture.

Pye. Love you me? then for your sweet sake I'll do't : Let me entreat the Corps to be set down.

Sher. Bearers, set down the Coffin, this is wonderful, and worthy Stow's Chronicle.

Pye. I pray bestow the freedom of the Air upon our wholsome Art,

Mass his Cheeks begin to receive natural warmth: Nay, good Corporal, wake betime, or I shall have a longer Sleep than you, -'sfoot, if he should prove dead indeed now, he were fully reveng'd upon me for making a Property on him, yet I had rather run upon the Ropes, than have the Rope like a Tetter run upon me, ohe ftirs he stirs again look, Gentlemen, he recovers, he starts, he rises.

Sher. Oh, oh, defend usPye. Nay, pray be still; you'll make him more giddy, else; he knows no Body yer.

Corp. Zowns; where am I ? cover'd with Snow? I marvel?

Pye. Nay, I knew he would Swear the first thing he did, as soon as he came to Life again.

Corp. 'Sfoot, Hostess—fome hot Porridge,oh, ho, lay on a dozen of Faggots in the Moon Parlour, there.

Pye. Lady, you must needs take a little pity of him i'faith, and send him into your Kitchen Fire.

Wid. O, with all my Heart, Sir Nicholas and Frailty, help to bear him in.

Nich. Bear him in, quotha, pray call in the Maids, I shall ne'er have the Heart to do't, indeed la.

Frail. Nor I neither, I cannot abide to handle a Ghost, of all Men,

Corp. 'Sloud, let me see, where was I drunk last Night? hah

Wid. O, shall I bid you once again take him away?

Frail. Why, we're as fearful as you, I warrant you— oh

Wid. Away, Villains, bid the Maids make him a Cawdle presently to settle his Brain-----or a Posset of Sack, quickly, quickly

[Exeunt, pushing in the Corps. Sher. Sir, whatsoe’er you are, I do more than admire you.

Wid. O 1, if you knew all, Master Sheriff, as you shall do, you would say then, that here were two of the rareft Men within the Walls of Christendom.

Sher. Two of 'em, O wonderful: Officers, I discharge you, set him free, all's in tune.

Sir God. Ay, and a Banquet ready by this time, Master Sheriff, to which I most cheerfully invite you, and your late Prisoner there : See you this goodly Chain, Sir, mum, no more Words, 'twas lost and is found again; come, my inestimable Bullies, we'll talk of your Noble A&s in sparkling Charnico, and instead of a Jester, we'll ha the Ghost i'tho white Sheet fit at upper end o'th' Table. Sher. Exlent, merry Man, i'faith.

[Exit. Fran. Well, seeing I am enjoin'd to love, and marry, My foolish Vow thus I casheer to Air Which first begot it, -now, Love, play thy part; The Scholar reads his Lecture in

my

Heart. Exeunt.

ACT V. SCEN E I.

Enter in hafte Master Edmond ard Frailty,

Edm.

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HIS is the Marriage-morning for my Mother and

my Sifter.

Frail. O me, Master Edmond, we shall have rare doings.

Edm. Nay go, Frailty, run to the Sexton, you know my Mother will be married at Saint Antlings, hie thee, 'tis past five, bid them open the Church-door, my Sister is almost ready.

Frail. What already, Master Edmond?

Edm. Nay, go hie thee, first run to the Sexton, and run to the Clerk, and then run to Master Pigman the Parson, and then run to the Milliner, and then run home again.

Frail. Here's run, run, run-
Edm. But hark, Frailty.
Frail. What, more yet?

Edm. Have the Maids remembred to strew the way to the
Church.

Frail. Foh, an hour ago I help'd 'em my self.
Edm. Away, away, away, away then,
Frail. Away, away, away, away then. [Exit Frailty.

Edm. I shall have a simple Father-in-law, a brave 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 a Woman, and then the Scholar, Master Pye-boord for my Sister Frances, that will be Mistress Frances Pye-boord, Mistress Frances Pye-boord, they'll keep a good Table, I warrant you : Now all the Knights Noses are put out of joint, they may go to a Bonefetters now.

Enter Captain, and Pye-boord.

Hark, hark; who comes here with two Torches before 'em, my sweet Captain, and my fine Scholar? O how bravely they are shot up in one Night, they look like fine Britains now methinks, here's a gallant change i’faith; 'slid, they have hir’d Men and all by the Clock,

Capt. Master Edmond, kind, honest, dainty Master Edmond.

Edm. Foh, sweet Captain Father-in-law, a rare perfume i'faith

Pye. What, are the Brides stirring? may we steal upon 'em, think'st thou, Master Edmond?

Edm. Faw, they're e'en upon readiness, I can assure you ; for they were at their Torch e'en now, by the fame token ! tumbled down the Stairs. Pye. Alas, poor Master Edmond.

Enter Musicians. Capt. O, the Musicians ! I prethee, Master Edmond, call 'em in, and liquor 'em a little.

Edm. That I will, sweet Captain Father-in-law, and make each of them as drunk as a common Fidler. [Exeunt.

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Enter

Enter Sir John Penny-Dub, and Moll above lacing of her

Cloaths.
Dub. Whewh, Mistress Moll, Mistress Moll.
Moll. Who's there?
Dub. 'Tis I.

Moll. Who, Sir John Penny-Dub? O you're an early Cock i'faith, who would have thought you to be so rare a stirrer?

Dub. Prethee, Moll, let me come up.

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

Dub. I'll not stay i'faith.

Moll. I'faith you thall stay; for, Sir John, you must note the nature of the Climates: Your Northern Wench in her own Country may well hold out 'till the be fifteen, but if The touch the South once, and come up to London, here the Chimes go presently after twelve.

Dub. O thou’rt a mad Wench, Moll, but I prethee make haste, for the Priest is gone before. Moll. Do you follow him, I'll not be long after.

[Exeunt

. Enter Sir Oliver Muck-hill, Sir Andrew Tipstaff, and old

Skirmish talking
Muck. O monstrous unheard of Forgery!

Tip. Knight, I never heard of such Villany in our own Country, in my Life.

Muck. Why, 'tis impossible, dare you maintain your Words?

Skir. Dare we? e'en to their wezen Pipes; we know all their Plots, they cannot squander with us, they have knavishly abus'd 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 Widow be not too much befotted on Slights and Forgeries, the Revelation of their Villanies will make 'em loathsome, and to that end, be it in private to you, I sent late last Night to an Honourable 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 oye good words for me,

and

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and to speak Truth, for such needful Occasions, I only preserve him in Bond, and sometimes he may do me more good here in the City by a free Word of his Mouth, than if he had paid one half in Hand, and took Doomsday for t'other.

Tip. In troth, Sir, without foothing be it spoken, you have publish'd much Judgment in these few Words,

Muck, For you know, what such a Man utters will be thought effe&tual, and to weighty purpose, and therefore, into his Mouth we'll put the approved Theme of their Forgeries. Skir. And I'll maintain it, Knight, if she'll be true.

Enter a Servant.
Muck. How now, Fellow.

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

Muck. Is my Lord come already? his Honour's early; You 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'll relate all to him.

[Exeunt. Enter the two Bridegrooms, Captain and Scholar. After them,

Sir Godfrey and Edmond, Widow chang'd in Apparel,
Mistress Frances led between two Knights: Sir John Penny-
Dub and Moll; there meets themi a Nobleman, Sir Oliver
Muck-hill, and Sir Andrew Tipstaff.
Nob. By your leave, Lady.
Wid. My Lord, your Honour is most chastly welcome.

Nob. Madam, though I came now from Court, I come not to flatter you ; upon whom can I justly cast this Blor, but upon your own Forehead, that know not Ink from Milk, such is the blind belotting in the state of an unheaded Woman that's a Widow. For it is the

For it is the property of all you that are Widows (a Handful excepted) to hate those that honestly and carefully love you, to the maintenance of Credit, State, and Pofterity, and strongly to doat on those, that only love you to undo you ; and 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,

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