Wise-woman. That is the gentleman [_pointing to_ Boyster],--accept him, Luce; and you the like of her--nay, I’ll make it good. This gentleman married you visarded, you him disguised, mistaking him for Chartley, which none but my boy Jack was privy to: after she changed her habit with him, as you with Jack; and you in Mistress Luce’s habit-- Luce. May I believe you, mother? Wise-woman. This be your token. Boyster. Her that I married, I wrung twice by the finger. Luce. Of that token, my hand was sensible. Boyster. And ere the clamorous and loud noise begun, I whispered to her thus-- [_Whispers_. Luce. You are the man. Boyster. Thanks, grannam; what thou promised thou hast done. Luce’s Father. And, leaving him, I take you for my son. Young Chartley. Two gone! then where’s the third? This makes me mad. Where is my wife, then? for a wife I had. Wise-woman. Not see thy wife? Come hither, Jack, my boy. Nay, take him to thee, and with him all joy. Old Chartley. Well art thou served to be a general scorn To all thy blood: and, if not for our sakes, For thy soul’s health and credit of the world, Have some regard to me--to me thy father. Young Chartley. Enough, sir: if I should say I would become a new man, you would not take my word; if I should swear I would amend my life, you would not take mine oath; if I should bind myself to become an honest man, you would scarce take my bond. Old Chartley. I should do none of these. Young Chartley. Then see, sir: when to all your judgments I see me past grace, do I lay hold of grace, and here begin to retire myself. This woman hath lent me a glass, in which I see all my imperfections, at which my conscience doth more blush inwardly than my face outwardly; and now I dare confidently undertake for myself I am honest. 2nd Luce. Then I dare confidently undertake to help you to a wife who desires to have an honest man or none. Look on me well: simple though I stand here, I am your wife. Blush not at your folly, man. Perhaps I have more in me than you expect from me. Young Chartley. Knavery and riot, both which are now to me foreign. 2nd Luce. You and I have been better acquainted, and yet search me not too far, lest you shame me; look on me well--nay better, better yet;--I’ll assure you I left off a petticoat when I put on these breeches. What say you now? [_She scatters her hair_. Young Chartley. First love, and best beloved! 2nd Luce. Let me be both or neither. Wise-woman. [_Aside_.] My boy turned girl! I hope she’ll keep my counsel. From henceforth I’ll never entertain any servant but I’ll have her searched. Old Chartley. Her love hath drawn her hither after him.-- My loving daughter, welcome! thou hast run A happy course to see my son thus changed.