WILD. Then you shall ask the captain pardon, and your wife. To him you shall allow half your parsonage to maintain her. The deeds are ready within: if you'll sign them, and deliver your wife to our use, she shall discharge you. PAR. I submit, sir; but I hope your worship will desire no witness to the use of my wife. The sumner, and the watch too, I hope your worship will enjoin them silence. WAN. You shall not need to fear; I'll have a care of your credit. Call in the watch. Do you know these faces? [_She discovers them._ PAR. Ha! abused. JOLLY. Nay, no flinching: if you do, I betake me to master sumner again. CAPT. And I become severe master constable in a trice. PAR. No, no, I submit; and I hope we are all friends. I'm sure I have the hardest part to forgive. WAN. And I, before all this company, promise to forget, and forgive thee, and am content to take thee again for my dear and mortal husband, now you are tame; but you must see you do so no more; and give yourself to be blind when it is not fit for you to see; and practise to be deaf, and learn to sleep in time, and find business to call you away, when gentlemen come that would be private. CAPT. Why so; now things are as they should be; and when you will obey, you shall command; but when you would be imperious, then I betake me to my constable's staff till you subscribe, _Cedunt armis togæ_: and if it be false Latin, parson, you must pardon that too. JOLLY. By this hand, I must have my tithe-night with thee, thou art such a wag. Say when? When wilt thou give me leave, ha? WAN. Never. JOLLY. Never! WAN. No, never. JOLLY. D'ye hear? I am none of them that work for charity. Either resolve to pay, or I kick down all my milk again. WAN. What would you have? JOLLY. Give me leave to lie with you. WAN. No indeed. JOLLY. No! WAN. No; but rather than quarrel, as I said before, I will give you leave to say you have lain with me. WILD. I am of opinion she owes you nothing now. So, Mistress Wanton, take your husband; and, to remove all doubts, this night I'll be at the charge of a wedding-supper. PAR. This is better than Newgate-hole yet, Bridewell hemp, brown bread, and whipcord. [_Exeunt omnes._ SCENE III. _Enter the_ WIDOW _and_ MISTRESS PLEASANT, MASTER SAD, _and_ MASTER CONSTANT. WID. By my troth, it was a good play. PLEA. And I'm glad I'm come home, for I am e'en a-weary with this walking. For God's sake, whereabouts does the pleasure of walking lie? I swear I have often sought it till I was weary, and yet I ne'er could find it. SAD. What do these halberds at your door? [_A_ WATCH _at the_ WIDOW'S _door_. WID. Halberds! Where? SAD. There, at your lodging. CON. Friend, what would those watchmen have? WATCH. The house is shut up for the sickness[264] this afternoon. PLEA. The sickness! WATCH. Yes, forsooth; there's a coachman dead, full of the tokens. SAD. Where's the officer?