SCUD. Thou Pancridge parson![26] O, for my friend Nevill! Some wile or other might remove this priest, And give us[27] breathing to cross their intent. [_Aside._ NEV. Alas! my dear friend. [_Aside._ SCUD. Sir, do but you refuse to join them. NEV. Upon what acquaintance, sir? They are great persons, and I mean to rise: I hope in time to have three livings, man; And this were not the way, I take it, sir. SCUD. Why, look thee; there is gold. NEV. O, by no means. SCUD. I seldom knew't refus'd yet by thy coat, But where it would have been a cause of good. NEV. But look ye; you shall see, I'm a divine Of conscience quite opposite to a lawyer: I'll give you counsel, sir, without a fee. This way they are to come; if you dare do't, Challenge her as your own at the church-door: I will not hinder you. [_Music plays._ SCUD. O, hark! they come. Nevill, my friend! well, I must something do. O, why should music, which joys every part, Strike such sharp killing discords to my heart! _Music. Enter_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY, _who meets the parson, and entertains him_; COUNT FREDERICK, BELLAFRONT, STRANGE, KATHERINE, LUCIDA _with willow_; PENDANT, SIR INNOCENT NINNY, LADY NINNY, MRS WAGTAIL, SIR ABRAHAM _melancholy_. W.P.[28] _walk gravely afore all softly on_. SCUDMORE _stands before, and a boy sings to the tuned music_. _The Song._ _They that for worldly wealth do wed, That buy and sell the marriage-bed, That come not warm'd with the true fire, Resolv'd to keep this vow entire, Too soon find discontent: Too soon shall they repent. But, Hymen, these are no such lovers, Which thy burning torch discovers. Though they live, then, many a year, Let each day as new appear As this first; and delights Make of all bridal nights. Iö, Hymen! give consent Bless'd are the marriages that ne'er repent._ C. FRED. How now! who's this? PEN. Young Scudmore. OMNES. 'Tis young Scudmore! SCUD. Canst thou this holy church enter a bride, And not a corse, meeting these eyes of mine? BEL. Yes, by my troth: what are your eyes to me, But grey ones, as they are to everybody. [_To the rest._] The gentleman I do a little know: He's frantic, sure! Forward, a' God's name, there! LUC. Sister, this is not well, and will be worse. SCUD. O, hold thy thunder fast! C. FRED. What is the matter? PEN. I'll ask, my lord. What is the matter, sir? SIR J. WOR. Some idle words, my lord, 't may be, have pass'd 'Twixt Scudmore and my daughter heretofore; But he has dreamt 'em things of consequence. PEN. Pish! nothing else? set forward. NEV. By your leave.