_Enter_ COUNT, PENDANT, SIR ABRAHAM, _in their masquing robes_. C. FRED. Come, come! away for shame! SCUD. 'Tis such a tedious rascal. So ha' wi' ye. [_Exeunt masquers._ SIR J. WOR. Thou hast well fitted 'em, though thou mad'st 'em stay. NEV. I forbid any man to mend 'em, sir. Good night unto your worship. SIR J. WOR. Wilt not stay? NEV. Alas, sir! I have another to set forth This very night. By your leave, my masters. [_Exit_ NEVILL _through them_. 2D SER. By your leave! by your leave! you'll let a man go out? SIR J. WOR. Now, go with me, and let all in that will. [_Exit_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY _with them, and run in three or four_. SCENE II. _Enter two or three, setting three or four chairs and four or five stools. Loud music; in which time enter_ SIR JOHN WORLDLY, SIR INNOCENT, BELLAFRONT, LUCIDA, KATE, _my_ LADY NINNY, MISTRESS WAGTAIL. _They seat themselves_. LADY NINNY _offers at two or three chairs; at last finds the great one; they point at her and laugh. As soon as she is set, she drinks of her bottle. The music plays, and they enter. After one strain of the music_, SCUDMORE _takes_ BELLAFRONT, _who seems unwilling to dance_. COUNT _takes_ LUCIDA; PENDANT, KATE; SIR ABRAHAM, MISTRESS WAGTAIL: SCUDMORE, _as they stand (the other courting too), whispers as follows:_-- SCUD. I am your Scudmore. [_Soft music._ BEL. Ha! SCUD. By heaven, I am. Be rul'd by me in all things. BEL. Even to death. ABRA. 'Sfoot! Did you not know me by my purse? 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!