_Ab._ Come Daughter, you must now be rul'd, or never. _Cell._ I must obey your will. _Ab._ That's my good Daughter. [_Exeunt._ SCENE VII. _Enter_ Dorothy, _and_ Mary. _Ma._ What a coyle has this fellow kept i'th' Nunnery, Sure he has run the _Abbess_ out of her wits. _Do._ Out of the Nunnery I think, for we can neither see her, Nor the young _Cellide_. _Ma._ Pray Heavens he be not teasing. _Dor._ Nay you may thank your self, 'twas your own structures. _Enter_ Hylas, _and_ Sam. _Sam._ Why there's the Gentlewoman. _Hyl._ Mass 'tis she indeed; How smart the pretty Thief looks! 'morrow Mistress. _Dor._ Good morrow to you, Sir. _Sam._ How strange she bears it! _Hyl._ Maids must do so, at first. _Dor._ Would ye ought with us, Gentlemen? _Hyl._ Yes marry would I, A little with your Ladyship. _Dor._ Your will, Sir. _Hyl._ _Doll_, I would have ye presently prepare your self And those things you would have with you, For my house is ready. _Dor._ How, Sir? _Hyl._ And this night not to fail, you must come to me, My friends will all be there too: for Trunks, and those things, And houshold-stuff, and cloaths you would have carried, To morrow, or the next day, I'le take order: Only what mony you have, bring away with ye, And Jewels. _Dor._ Jewels, Sir? _Hyl._ I, for adornment, There's a bed up, to play the game in, _Dorothy_: And now come kiss me heartily. _Dor._ Who are you? _Hyl._ This Lady shall be welcome too. _Ma._ To what, Sir? _Hyl._ Your neighbour can resolve ye. _Dor._ The man's foolish, Sir, you look soberly: who is this fellow, And where's his business? _Sam._ By Heaven, thou art abus'd still. _Hyl._ It may be so: Come, ye may speak now boldly, There's none but friends, Wench. _Dor._ Came ye out of Bedlam? Alas, 'tis ill, Sir, that ye suffer him To walk in th' open Air thus: 'twill undo him. A pretty handsome Gentleman: great pity. _Sam._ Let me not live more if thou be'st not cozen'd. _Hyl._ Are not you my Wife? did not I marry you last night At Sᵗ _Michaels_ Chapel? _Dor._ Did not I say he was mad? _Hyl._ Are not you Mistress _Dorothy_, _Thomas_'s Sister? _Mar._ There he speaks sence, but I'le assure ye, Gentleman, I think no Wife of yours: at what hour was it? _Hyl._ 'S pretious; you'l make me mad; did not the Priest, Sir _Hugh_, that you appointed, about twelve a Clock Tye our hands fast? did not you swear you lov'd me? Did not I court ye, coming from this Gentlewomans? _Ma._ Good Sir, go sleep: for if I credit have, She was in my arms then, abed. _Sam._ I told ye. _Hyl._ Be not so confident.