_Limb._ Look you now, Pug! who's in the right? Well, thou art born to be a lucky Pug, in spite of thyself. _Trick_ [_Aside._] O, I am ruined!--One word, I beseech you, father Aldo. _Aldo._ Not a syllable. What the devil's in you, daughter? Open, son, open. _Trick._ [_Aloud._] It shall not be opened; I will have my will, though I lose my settlement. Would I were within the chest! I would hold it down, to spite you. I say again, would I were within the chest, I would hold it so fast, you should not open it.--The best on't is, there's good inkle on the top of the inside, if he have the wit to lay hold on't. [_Aside._ _Limb._ [_Going to open it._] Before George, I think you have the devil in a string, Pug; I cannot open it, for the guts of me. _Hictius doctius!_ what's here to do? I believe, in my conscience, Pug can conjure: Marry, God bless us all good Christians! _Aldo._ Push hard, son. _Limb._ I cannot push; I was never good at pushing. When I push, I think the devil pushes too. Well, I must let it alone, for I am a fumbler. Here, take the keys, Pug. _Trick._ [_Aside._] Then all's safe again. _Enter_ JUDITH _and_ GERVASE. _Jud._ Madam, Mrs Pleasance has sent for the chest you borrowed of her. She has present occasion for it; and has desired us to carry it away. _Limb._ Well, that's but reason: If she must have it, she must have it. _Trick_ Tell her, it shall be returned some time to-day; at present we must crave her pardon, because we have some writings in it, which must first be taken out, when we can open it. _Limb._ Nay, that's but reason too: Then she must not have it. _Gerv._ Let me come to't; I'll break it open, and you may take out your writings. _Limb._ That's true: 'Tis but reasonable it should be broken open. _Trick._ Then I may be bound to make good the loss. _Limb._ 'Tis unreasonable it should be broken open. _Aldo._ Before George, Gervase and I will carry it away; and a smith shall be sent for to my daughter Pleasance's chamber, to open it without damage. _Limb._ Why, who says against it? Let it be carried; I'm all for reason. _Trick._ Hold; I say it shall not stir. _Aldo._ What? every one must have their own; _Fiat justitia, aut ruat mundus._ _Limb._ Ay, _fiat justitia,_ Pug: She must have her own; for _justitia_ is Latin for justice. [ALDO _and_ GERV. _lift at it._ _Aldo._ I think the devil's in't. _Gerv._ There's somewhat bounces, like him, in't. 'Tis plaguy heavy; but we'll take t'other heave. _Trick._ [_Taking hold of the chest._] Then you shall carry me too. Help, murder, murder! [_A confused gabbling among them._ _Enter Mrs_ SAINTLY. _Saint._ Verily, I think all hell's broke loose among you. What, a schism in my family! Does this become the purity of my house? What will the ungodly say?