MOLL. Who? Sir John Pennydub? O you’re an early cock, ifaith: who would have thought you to be so rare a stirrer?
PENNYDUB.
Preethe, Moll, let me come up.
MOLL.
No, by my faith, Sir John, I’ll keep you down, for you
Knights are very dangerous in once you get above.
PENNYDUB.
I’ll not stay, ifaith.
MOLL. Ifaith, you shall stay, for, Sir John, you must note the nature of the Climates: your Northern wench in her own Country may well hold out till she be fifteen, but if she touch the South once, and come up to London, here the Chimes go presently after twelve.
PENNYDUB. O th’art a mad wench, Moll, but I pree thee make haste, for the priest is gone before.
MOLL.
Do you follow him, I’ll not be long after.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. A room in Sir Oliver Muckhill’s house.
[Enter Sir Oliver Muckhill, Sir Andrew Tipstaff, and old
Skirmish talking.]