NICHOLAS. Oh, I have found an excellent advantage to take away the chain: my Master put it off e’en now to say on a new Doublet, and I sneak’t it away by little and little most Puritanically. We shall have good sport anon when ha’s missed it about my Cousin the Conjurer. The world shall see I’m an honest man of my word, for now I’m going to hang it between Heaven and Earth among the Rosemary branches. [Exit Nicholas.] ACTUS 3. SCENE I. The street before the Widow’s house. [Enter Simon Saint Mary-Ovaries and Frailty.] FRAILTY. Sirrah Simon Saint Mary-Ovaries, my Mistress sends away all her suitors and puts fleas in their ears. SIMON. Frailty, she does like an honest, chaste, and virtuous woman; for widdows ought not to wallow in the puddle of iniquity. FRAILTY. Yet, Simon, many widdows will do’t, what so comes on’t. SIMON. True, Frailty, their filthy flesh desires a Conjunction Copulative. What strangers are within, Frailty? FRAILTY. There’s none, Simon, but Master Pilfer the Tailor: he’s above with Sir Godfrey praising of a Doublet: and I must trudge anon to fetch Master Suds, the Barber. SIMON. Master Suds,—a good man; he washes the sins of the Beard clean. [Enter old Skirmish the soldier.] SKIRMISH. How now, creatures? what’s a clock? FRAILTY. Why, do you take us to be Jack ath’ Clock-house? SKIRMISH. I say again to you what’s a clock. SIMON. Truly la, we go by the clock our conscience: all worldly Clocks, we know, go false, and are set by drunken Sextons. SKIRMISH. Then what’s a clock in your conscience?—oh, I must break off, here comes the corporal—hum, hum!—what’s a clock? [Enter Corporal.] CORPORAL. A clock? why, past seventeen. FRAILTY. Past seventeen? nay, ha’s met with his match now, Corporal Oath will fit him. SKIRMISH. Thou doost not bawk or baffle me, doost thou? I am a Soldier—past seventeen! CORPORAL. Aye, thou art not angry with the figures, art thou? I will prove it unto thee: 12. and 1. is thirteen, I hope, 2. fourteen, 3. fifteen, 4. sixteen, and 5. Seventeen; then past seventeen: I will take the Dials part in a just cause. SKIRMISH. I say ’tis but past five, then. CORPORAL. I’ll swear ’tis past seventeen, then: doost thou not know numbers? Canst thou not cast? SKIRMISH. Cast? dost thou speak of my casting ith’ street? CORPORAL. Aye, and in the Market place. SIMON. Clubs, clubs, clubs! [Simon runs in.] FRAILTY. Aye, I knew by their shuffling, Clubs would be Trump; mass, here’s the Knave, and he can do any good upon ’em: Clubs, clubs, clubs. [Enter Pye-board.] CORPORAL. O villain, thou hast opened a vein in my leg. PYE. How no! for shame, for shame; put up, put up. CORPORAL. By yon blue Welkin, ’twas out of my part, George, to be hurt on the leg. [Enter Officers.] PYE. Oh peace now—I have a Cordial here to comfort thee. OFFICER. Down with ’em, down with em; lay hands upon the villain. SKIRMISH. Lay hands on me? PYE. I’ll not be seen among em now. [Exit Pye-board.]