+Jar.+ The softest wax ever sealed bawdy business! Now for old Bloodhound: I'll meet you upon the 'Change, sir, with a blind bargain, and then help your son to a good pennyworth; this night shall be all mirth, a mistress of delight. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Bloodhound+_,[76] +Sim+, _and +Moll+._ +Blood.+ Nay, nay, nay, mark what follows; I must bring her home i' th' dark, turn her up to bed, and here she goes to church. My cloak, sirrah. +Sim.+ 'Tis a very dark night, sir; you'll not have a cloak for the rain.[77] +Blood.+ I'm going to steal the widow from I know not how many. +Sim.+ Nay, then I'll let your cloak for the rain alone, and fetch you a cloak for your knavery. +Blood.+ To bed, to bed, good Sim. What, Moll, I say! +Moll.+ Sir. +Blood.+ I charge you, let not one be up i' th' house but yourself after the clock strikes ten, nor a light be stirring. Moll, trick up the green bed-chamber very daintily. +Moll.+ I shall, sir. +Blood.+ And--well-remembered, Moll--the keys of my compting-house are in the left pocket of my hose[78] above i' th' wicker chair; look to them, and have a care of the black box there I have often told thee of: look to that as to thy maidenhead. +Moll.+ I shall, sir. +Blood.+ Pray for me, all; pray for me, all. +Sim.+ Have you left out anything for supper? +Blood.+ Out, rogue! shall not I be at infinite expense to-morrow? fast to-night, and pray for me. +Sim.+ An old devil in a greasy satin doublet keep you company! [_Aside._ +Blood.+ Ha, what's that? +Sim.+ I say, the satin doublet you will wear to-morrow will be the best in the company, sir. +Blood.+ That's true, that's true. I come, widow, I come, wench. [_Exit +Bloodhound+._ +Moll.+ O sweet Sim, what shall I do to-morrow? To-morrow must be the day, the doleful day, the dismal day! Alas, Sim! what dost thou think in thy conscience I shall do with an old man? +Sim.+ Nay, you're well enough served; you know how your brother, not an hour ago, lay at you to have the Ancient, one that your teeth e'en water at; and yet you cry, I cannot love him, I wonnot have him. +Moll.+ I could willingly marry him, if I might do nothing but look on him all day, where he might not see me; but to lie with him--alas! I shall be undone the first night. +Sim.+ That's true: how will you go to bed else? But, remember, he is a man of war, an ancient, you are his colours: now, when he has nimbly displayed you, and handsomely folded you up against the next fight, then we shall have you cry, O sweet Sim, I had been undone, if I had not been undone.[79] +Moll.+ Nay, and then the old fellow would mumble me to bed.