W. SMALL. I answer, That most constables in our out-parishes Are bawds themselves, by which we scap'd the searches. OLIVER. This is most strange! LADY SOM. What's become of this woman? BEARD. That know not I. As I was squiring her Along the street, Master Small-shanks set upon me, Beat me down, and took away the maid, Which I suppose was daughter to the widow. W. SMALL. He lies; let me be hanged, if he lie not. OLIVER. What confusion is this? _Enter_ CONSTABLE. CON. Bring them forward. _Enter_ THOMAS SMALL-SHANKS _and_ FRANCES. [443]God preserve your worship. [_To_ L. SOM.] And it like you, madam? [_To_ SIR O.] We were commanded by your[443] deputy That, if we took a woman in the watch, To bring her straight to you: and hearing there You were come hither, hither we brought them. OLIVER. The one is my son; I do acknowledge him. What woman's that? T. SMALL. The widow's daughter, sir. W. SMALL. Blood! is he gull'd too. T. SMALL. My brother stole her first, Throat cosen'd him, and I had cosen'd Throat, Had not the constable took us in the watch. She is the widow's daughter, had I had luck. THROAT. And my espoused wife. LADY SOM. Unmask her face. My daughter? I defy her. W. SMALL. Your worship's wife. THROAT. I am gull'd and abus'd; and by a statute Of _Tricesimo_ of the late Queen I will star-chamber you all for cosenage, And be by law divorc'd. W. SMALL. Sir, 'twill not hold: She's your leeful, lawful, and true-wedded wife, _Teste_ Lieutenant Beard. BEARD. Was't you that brake my head? W. SMALL. But why shouldst think much to die a cuckold, Being born a knave? As good lawyers as you Scorn not horns. THROAT. I am gull'd, ay me accurs'd! Why should the harmless men be vex'd with horns, When women most deserve them? W. SMALL. I'll show you, sir: The husband is the wife's head, and, I pray, Where should the horns stand but upon the head? Why, wert not thou begot (thou foolish knave) By a poor sumner on a serjeant's widow? Wert not thou a Puritan, and put in trust To gather relief for the distress'd Geneva[ns]? And didst not thou leave thy poor brethren, And run away with all the money? Speak, Was not that thy first rising? Go, Y' are well-coupled: by Jove, ye are. She is But a younger sister newly come to town: She's current metal, not a penny the worse For a little use: whole within the ring, By my soul. BEARD. Will he take her, think'st thou? BOUT. Yes, faith upon her promise of amendment. JUS. TUT. The lawyer is gull'd. THROAT. Am I thus over-reach'd to have a wife, And not of the best neither?