[Exit Widdow and Frances.]
MOLL.
Dumb! and not marry, worse!
Neither to speak, nor kiss, a double curse.
[Exit.]
PYE. So all this comes well about yet. I play the Fortune-teller as well as if I had had a Witch to my Grannam: for by good happiness, being in my Hostesses’ Garden, which neighbours the Orchard o the Widdow, I laid the hole of mine ear to a hole in the wall, and heard ’em make these vows, and speak those words upon which I wrought these advantages; and to encourage my forgery the more, I may now perceive in ’em a natural simplicity which will easily swallow an abuse, if any covering be over it: and to confirm my former presage to the Widdow, I have advised old Peter Skirmish, the Soldier, to hurt Corporal Oath upon the Leg; and in that hurry I’ll rush amongst ’em, and in stead of giving the Corporal some Cordial to comfort him, I’ll power into his mouth a potion of a sleepy Nature, to make him seem as dead; for the which the old soldier being apprehended, and ready to be born to execution, I’ll step in, and take upon me the cure of the dead man, upon pain of dying the condemned’s death: the Corporal will wake at his minute, when the sleepy force has wrought it self, and so shall I get my self into a most admired opinion, and under the pretext of that cunning, beguile as I see occasion: and if that foolish Nicholas Saint Tantlings keep true time with the chain, my plot will be sound, the Captain delivered, and my wits applauded among scholars and soldiers for ever.
[Exit Pye-board.]
SCENE II. A Garden.
[Enter Nicholas Saint Tantlings with the chain.]
NICHOLAS. Oh, I have found an excellent advantage to take away the chain: my Master put it off e’en now to say on a new Doublet, and I sneak’t it away by little and little most Puritanically. We shall have good sport anon when ha’s missed it about my Cousin the Conjurer. The world shall see I’m an honest man of my word, for now I’m going to hang it between Heaven and Earth among the Rosemary branches.
[Exit Nicholas.]