MOLL. Not Marry? forswear Marriage? why, all women know ’tis as honorable a thing as to lie with a man; and I to spite my Sisters vow the more, have entertained a suitor already, a fine gallant Knight of the last Feather: he says he will Coach me too, and well appoint me, allow me money to Dice with-all, and many such pleasing protestations he sticks upon my lips; indeed, his short-winded Father ith’ Country is wondrous wealthy, a most abominable Farmer, and therefore he may doote in time: troth, I’ll venture upon him. Women are not without ways enow to help them-selves: if he prove wise and good as his word, why, I shall love him, and use him kindly: and if he prove an Ass, why, in a quarter of an hour’s warning I can transform him into an Ox;—there comes in my Relief again. [Enter Frailty.] FRAILTY. O, Mistress Moll, Mistress Moll. MOLL. How now? what’s the news? FRAILTY. The Knight your suitor, sir John Penny-Dub— MOLL. Sir John Penny-Dub? where? where? FRAILTY. He’s walking in the Gallery. MOLL. Has my Mother seen him yet? FRAILTY. O no, she’s—spitting in the Kitchen. MOLL. Direct him hither softly, good Frailty,— I’ll meet him half way. FRAILTY. That’s just like running a Tilt; but I hope he’ll break nothing this time. [Exit.] [Enter Sir John Penny-Dub.] MOLL. ’Tis happiness my Mother saw him not: O welcome, good Sir John. PENNY-DUB. I thank you, faith.—Nay, you must stand me, till I kiss you: ’tis the fashion every where, I-faith, and I came from Court enow. MOLL. Nay, the Fates forfend that I should anger the fashion! PENNY-DUB. Then, not forgetting the sweet of new ceremonies, I first fall back, then recovering my self, make my honour to your lip thus: and then accost it. MOLL. Trust me, very pretty, and moving; y’are worthy on’t, sir. [Kissing: Enter Widdow and Sir Godfrey.] O, my Mother, my Mother! now she’s here, we’ll steal into the Gallery. [Exeunt.] SIR GODFREY. Nay, Sister, let Reason rule you, do not play the fool; stand not in your own light. You have wealthy offers, large tendrings; do not with-stand your good fortune: who comes a wooing to you, I pray? no small fool; a rich Knight ath City, Sir Oliver Muck-Hill—no small fool I can tell you: and Furthermore, as I heard late by your Maid-servants, (as your Maid-servants will say to me any thing, I thank ’em) both your Daughters are not without Suitors, aye, and worthy ones too! one a Brisk Courtier, Sir Andrew Tip-Staff, suitor a far off to your eldest Daughter, and the third a huge-wealthy Farmer’s son, a fine young Country Knight, they call him Sir John Penny-Dub: a good name, marry; he may have it coined when he lacks money. What blessings are these, Sister! WIDDOW. Tempt me not, Satan. SIR GODFREY. Satan? do I look like Satan? I hope the Devil’s not so old as I, I tro. WIDDOW. You wound my senses, Brother, when you name A suitor to me:—oh, I cannot abide it, I take in poison, when I hear one nam’d. [Enter Simon.]