PYE. Sfoot, Captain, I’ll pawn my life the Corporal’s confined, and old Skirmish the soldier going to execution, and ’tis now full about the time of his waking; hold out a little longer, sleepy potion, and we shall have exlent admiration; for I’ll take upon me the cure of him. SCENE III. The street before the Widow’s house. [Enter the Coffin of the Corporal, the soldier bound, and lead by Officers, the Sheriff there. From the house, Sir Godfrey, the Widow, Idle, Pyeboard, Edmond, Frailty, and Nicholas.] FRAILTY. Oh here they come, here they come! PYE. Now must I close secretly with the Soldier, prevent his impatience, or else all’s discovered. WIDOW. O lamentable seeing! these were those Brothers, that fought and bled before our door. SIR GODFREY. What, they were not, Sister? SKIRMISH. George, look toot, I’ll peach at Tyburn else. PYE. Mum,—Gentles all, vouchsafe me audience, and you especially, Master Sheriff: Yon man is bound to execution, Because he wounded this that now lies coffined? SHERIFF. True, true; he shall have the law,—and I know the law. PYE. But under favour, Master Sheriff, if this man had been cured and safe again, he should have been released then? SHERIFF. Why make you question of that, Sir? PYE. Then I release him freely, and will take upon me the death that he should die, if within a little season, I do not cure him to his proper health again. SHERIFF. How Sir? recover a dead man? That were most strange of all. [Frances comes to him.] FRANCES. Sweet Sir, I love you dearly, and could wish my best part yours,—oh do not undertake such an impossible venture. PYE. Love you me? then for your sweet sake I’ll doo’t: Let me entreat the corpse to be set down. SHERIFF. Bearers, set down the Coffin.—This were wonderful, and worthy Stoes Chronicle. PYE. I pray bestow the freedom of the air upon our wholesome Art.— Mass, his cheeks begin to receive natural warmth: nay, good Corporal, wake betime, or I shall have a longer sleep then you.—Sfoot, if he should prove dead indeed now, he were fully revenged upon me for making a property on him, yet I had rather run upon the Ropes, then have the Rope like a Tetter run upon me. Oh—he stirs—he stirs again—look, Gentlemen, he recovers, he starts, he rises. SHERIFF. Oh, oh, defend us!—out, alas. PYE. Nay, pray be still; you’ll make him more giddy else:—he knows no body yet. CORPORAL. Zounes: where am I? covered with Snow? I marvel. PYE. Nay, I knew he would swear the first thing he did, as soon as ever he came to life again. CORPORAL. Sfoot, Hostess, some hot Porridge,—oh, oh, lay on a dozen of Fagots in the Moon parlor, there. PYE. Lady, you must needs take a little pity of him, yfaith, and send him in to your Kitchen fire. WIDOW. Oh, with all my heart, sir. Nicholas and Frailty, help to bear him in. NICHOLAS. Bear him in, quatha? pray call out the Maids, I shall ne’er have the heart to doo’t, indeed la.