NOBLE. For what they have besotted your easy blood withall wear nought but forgeries: the fortune telling for husbands, the conjuring for the chain Sir Godfrey heard the falshod of: all mere knavery, deceit, and coozenage. WIDOW. O wonderful! Indeed I wondred that my husband with all his Craft could not keep himself out of purgatory. SIR GODFREY. And I more wonder that my chain should be gone and my Tailor had none of it. MOLL. And I wondred most of all that I should be tied from marriage, having such a mind too’t. Come, Sir John Pennydub, fair weather on our side; the moon has changed since yester night. PYE. The Sting of every evil is with-in me. NOBLE. And that you may perceive I fain not with you, behold their fellow actor in those forgeries; who, full of Spleen and envy at their so sudden advancements, revealed all their plot in anger. PYE. Base Soldier, to reveal us/ WIDOW. Ist possible we should be blinded so, and our eye open? NOBLE. Widdow, will you now believe that false, which too soon you believed true? WIDOW. O, to my shame I do. SIR GODFREY. But under favour, my Lord, my chain was truly lost and strangely found again. NOBLE. Resolve him of that, Soldier. SKIRMISH. In few words, Knight, then, thou were the arch-gull of all. SIR GODFREY. How, Sir? SKIRMISH. Nay, I’ll prove it: for the chain was but hid in the rosemary bank all this while, and thou gotst him out of prison to Conjure for it, who did it admirably fustianly; for indeed what need any others when he knew where it was? SIR GODFREY. O villainy of villainies! But how came my chain there? SKIRMISH. Where’s truly la, in deed la, he that will not swear, but lie, He that will not steal, But rob: pure Nicholas Saint Antlings? SIR GODFREY. O Villain! one of our society, Deemd always holy, pure, religious. A Puritan a thief, when wast ever heard? Sooner we’ll kill a man then Steal, thou knowst. Out, slave! I’ll rend my lion from thy back With mine own hands. NICHOLAS. Dear Master, oh. NOBLE. Nay, Knight, dwell in patience. And now, widdow, being so near the Church, twer great pity, nay uncharity, to send you home again without a husband: draw nearer you of true worship, state and credit, that should not stand so far off from a widdow, and suffer forged shapes to come between you. Not that in these I blemish the true Title of a Captain, or blot the fair margent of a Scholar; For I honor worthy and deserving parts in the one, and cherish fruitful Vertues in the other. Come Lady, and you, Virgin; bestow your eyes and your purest affections upon men of estimation both in Court and City, that hath long wooed you, and both with there hearts and wealth sincerely love you. SIR GODFREY. Good Sister, do: Sweet little Franke, these are men of reputation; you shall be welcome at Court: a great credit for a Citizen, sweet Sister. NOBLE. Come, her silence does consent too’t. WIDDOW. I know not with what face—