Guard. No, no Sir, she's lustily well married.
Old K. To whom?
Guard. Oh, to that cunning dissembler, Cuningam.
Old K. I'll hang the Priest, first, what was he?
Guard. Your kinsman, Sir, that has the Welch Benefice.
Old K. I sav'd him from the Gallows to that end, good:
is there any more?
Guard. And Sir Gregory is married too.
Old K. To my Neece too, I hope, and then I may hang her.
Guard. No Sir, to my Neece, thank Cupid; and that's all
that's likely to recover me, she's Lady Fop now, and I am One
of her Aunts, I thank my promotion.
Enter Credulous, Cuningam, Neece, Sir Gregory, and Mirabel.