PYE. Come, let me tell you, ya’re too unkind a Kinsman, yfaith; the Captain loving you so dearly, aye, like the Pomwater of his eye, and you to be so uncomfortable: fie, fie. NICHOLAS. Pray, do not wish me to be hangd: any thing else that I can do, had it been to rob, I would ha don’t; but I must not steal: that’s the word, the literal, thou shalt not steal; and would you wish me to steal, then? PYE. No, faith, that were too much, to speak truth: why, woult thou nim it from him? NICHOLAS. That I will! PYE. Why, ynough, bully; he shall be content with that, or he shall ha none; let me alone with him now! Captain, I ha dealt with your Kins-man in a Corner; a good, kind-natured fellow, me thinks: go to, you shall not have all your own asking, you shall bate somewhat on’t: he is not contented absolutely, as you would say, to steal the chain from him,— but to do you a pleasure, he will nim it from him. NICHOLAS. Aye, that I will, Cousin. CAPTAIN. Well, seeing he will do no more, as far as I see, I must be contented with that. CORPORAL. Here’s no notable gullery! PYE. Nay, I’ll come nearer to you, Gentleman: because we’ll have only but a help and a mirth on’t, the knight shall not lose his chain neither, but it shall be only laid out of the way some one or two days. NICHOLAS. Aye, that would be good indeed, Kinsman. PYE. For I have a farder reach to profit us better by the missing on’t only, than if we had it out-right, as my discourse shall make it known to you.—When thou hast the chain, do but convey it out at back-door into the Garden, and there hang it close in the Rosemary bank but for a small season; and by that harmless device, I know how to wind Captain Idle out of prison: the Knight thy Master shall get his pardon and release him, and he satisfy thy Master with his own chain, and wondrous thanks on both hands. NICHOLAS. That were rare indeed, la: pray, let me know how. PYE. Nay, tis very necessary thou shouldst know, because thou must be employed as an Actor. NICHOLAS. An Actor? O no, that’s a Player; and our Parson rails again Players mightily, I can tell you, because they brought him drunk up’oth Stage once,—as he will be horribly drunk. CORPORAL. Mass, I cannot blame him then, poor Church-spout. PYE. Why, as an Intermedler, then? NICHOLAS. Aye, that, that. PYE. Give me Audience, then: when the old Knight thy Master has raged his fill for the loss of the chain, tell him thou hast a Kinsman in prison, of such exquisite Art, that the devil himself is French Lackey to him, and runs bare-headed by his horse-belly (when he has one) whom he will cause with most Irish Dexterity to fetch his chain, tho twere hid under a mine of sea-coal, and ne’er make Spade or Pickaxe his instruments: tell him but this, with farder instructions thou shalt receive from me, and thou shoust thy self a Kinsman indeed. CORPORAL. A dainty Bully. SKIRMISH. An honest Book-keeper. CAPTAIN. And my three times thrice honey Cousin.