Sencer. There is a cunning woman dwells not far, At Hogsdon, lady, famous for her skill. Besides some private talk that much concerns Your fortunes in your love, she hath to show you, This night, if it shall please you walk so far As to her house, an admirable suit Of costly needlework, which if you please You may buy under-rate for half the value It cost the making; about six o’clock You may have view thereof, but otherwise, A lady that hath craved the sight thereof Must have the first refusal. Gratiana. I’ll not fail her. My husband being this day rid from home, My leisure fitly serves me. Sencer. Thank you, mistress. At six o’clock. Gratiana. I will not fail the hour. [_Exit_. Sencer. Now to Sir Harry; his is the next place, To meet at Hogsdon his fair daughter Grace. [_Exit_. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I.--_A Street near_ Sir Harry’s _House_. _Enter_ Old Master Chartley _and three or four_ Serving-men. Old Chartley. Good Heaven! this London is a stranger grown, And out of my acquaintance; this seven years I have not seen Paul’s steeple, or Cheap Cross.[4.56] 1st Serving-man. Sir-- Old Chartley. Hast thou not made inquiry for my son? 1st Serving-man. Yes, sir, I have asked about everywhere for him, but cannot hear of him. Old Chartley. Disperse yourselves; inquire about the taverns, ordinaries, bowl-alleys, tennis-courts, gaming-houses; for there, I fear, he will be found. 1st Serving-man. But where shall we hear of your worship again? Old Chartley. At Grace Church by the Conduit, near Sir Harry. But stay, leave off a while your bootless search. Had e’er man such a wild brain to his sorrow, Of such small hope, who, when he should have married A fair, a modest, and a virtuous maid, Rich and revenued well, and even the night Before the marriage day took horse, rode thence, Whither Heaven knows? Since the distracted virgin Hath left her father’s house, but neither found, Yet in their search we have measured out much ground. _Enter_ Sir Harry _and_ Sencer. Sencer. Your worship will be there? Sir Harry. Yes, not to fail, At half an hour past six, or before seven. Sencer. You shall not find us at six and at seven, I’ll warrant you: good health to your worship. Sir Harry. Farewell, good fellow; At the Wise-woman’s house (I know it well: Perhaps she knows some danger touching me). I’ll keep mine hour. [_Exit_ Sencer. Old Chartley. Sir Harry, A hand, a hand; to baulk you it were sin. I shall be bold to make your house mine inn. Sir Harry. Brother Chartley, I am glad to see you. Old Chartley. Methinks, Sir Harry, you look strangely on me. And do not bid me welcome with an heart. Sir Harry. And blame me not to look amazedly To see you here. Old Chartley. Why me?