[_Exeunt_ BEATRICE, CRISPINELLA, _and_ Nurse. _Sir Hub._ Convey her in, and so, sir, as you said, Set a strong watch. _Sir Lio._ Ay, sir, and so pass along with this same common woman; you must make it good. 80 _Fra._ Ick sall, or let me pay for his mine bloud. _Sir Hub._ Come, then, along all, with quiet speed. _Sir Lio._ O fate! _Tyse._ O sir, be wisely sorry, but not passionate. [_Exeunt all but_ Young FREEVILL. _Free._ I will go and reveal myself! stay, no, no; Grief endears love. Heaven! to have such a wife Is happiness to breed pale envy in the saints. Thou worthy dove-like virgin without gall, Cannot (that woman's evil) jealousy, Despite disgrace, nay, which is worse, contempt, 90 Once stir thy faith? O truth, how few sisters hast thou! Dear memory! With what a suffering sweetness, quiet modesty, Yet deep affection, she received my death! And then with what a patient, yet oppressed kindness, She took my lewdly intimated wrongs! O the dearest of heaven! were there but three Such women in the world, two might be saved. Well, I am great With expectation to what devilish end 100 This woman of foul soul will drive her plots; But Providence all wicked art o'ertops; And impudence must know (tho' stiff as ice), That fortune doth not always dote on vice. [_Exit._ [87] "No point"--not at all (Fr. _non point_). See Dyce's _Shakesp. Glossary_. SCENE V. _A Street._ _Enter_ Sir HUBERT, Sir LIONEL, TYSEFEW, FRANCESCHINA, _and three with halberds_. _Sir Hub._ Plant a watch there! be very careful, sirs; the rest with us. _Tyse._ The heavy night grows to her depth of quiet; 'Tis about mid-darkness. _Fra._ Mine shambre is hard by; ick sall bring you to it presantment. _Sir Lio._ Deep silence! On! [_Exeunt._ _Coc._ (_within_). Wa, ha, ho! _Enter_ MULLIGRUB. _Mul._ It was his voice, 'tis he: he sups with his cupping-glasses. 'Tis late; he must pass this way: I'll ha' him--I'll ha' my fine boy, my worshipful Cocledemoy; I'll moy him; he shall be hang'd in lousy linen; I'll hire some sectary to make him an heretic before he die; and when he is dead I'll piss on his grave. 15 _Enter_ COCLEDEMOY. _Coc._ Ah, my fine punks, good night, Frank Frailty, Frail o' Frail-hall! _Bonus noches, my ubiquitari._ _Mul._ Ware polling and shaving, sir. _Coc._ A wolf, a wolf, a wolf! [_Exit_ COCLEDEMOY, _leaving his cloak behind him_.