Lov.  Here, Mr Bibber, pray put in Madam Bibber’s name into the warrant.

Bib.  Madam Bibber! there’s joy!—­I must call you wife no more, ’tis Madam Bibber now.

Franc.  Pray read it, Mr Bibber.

Bib.  An order for the admission of the illustrious lady, Madam Bibber, into her majesty’s service.

Franc.  Pray give me the paper, I’ll have nobody touch it but myself; I am sure my money pays for it, as they say.  These are the finest words; Madam Bibber! pray, chicken, shew me where Madam is written, that I may kiss it all over.  I shall make bold now to bear up to those flirting gentlewomen, that sweep it up and down with their long tails.  I thought myself as good as they, when I was as I was; but now I am as I am.

Lov.  Good landlady, dispatch, and bring the money—­

Franc.  Truly, in the place of a dresser, I dare be bold to say, as they say, I shall give their majesties worships good content:  I’ll go fetch it.

[Exit FRANCES.

Bib.  We must keep the poor soul in ignorance as long as we can, sir; for when she has once smoked it, I have no other way but to retreat into the body of my janizaries, my journey-men; and never come out into her presence more.  Where will you be at nine o’clock, sir, that we may rejoice over our good fortune?

Lov.  Call me at my Lord Nonsuch’s house, and I’ll go with you.

Bib.  We’ll have the fiddles, and triumph, i’faith.

[Exit BIBBER.

Lov.  Lord, how eager this vermin was to cheat himself!  Well, I’ll after; I long to finger these Jacobus’s:  Perhaps they may make my peace again with my mistress.

[Exit LOVEBY.

SCENE II.

Enter FAILER and NONSUCH. [CONSTANCE and ISABELLA listening.]

Fail.  I vow to gad, my lord, Sir Timorous is the most dejected person in the world, and full of regret for what is past.  ’Twas his misfortune to be drawn in by such a person as Madam Isabella.

Non.  Tis well his estate pleads for him; he should ne’er set foot more within my doors else.

Fail.  I’ll be security for him for time to come:  Leave it to me to get the licence:  All I desire is, your daughter may be ready to-morrow morning.

Non.  Well, let me alone with her.

[Exeunt FAILER and NONSUCH.

Isa.  You heard the dreadful sound, to-morrow, cousin.

Const.  I would not throw myself away upon this fool, if I could help it.

Isa.  Better marry a tertian ague than a fool, that’s certain; there’s one good day and night in that.

Const.  And yet thou art mad for him thyself.

Isa.  Nay, the fool is a handsome fool, that’s somewhat; but ’tis not that; ’tis a kind of fancy I have taken to a glass coach, and six Flanders mares; rich liveries, and a good fortune.