Non.  She’s with child:  I am undone!  I am undone!

Isa.  I understand nothing of such matters:  She’s but in the next room; best call her, and examine her about it.

Non.  Why Constance, Constance!

Enter CONSTANCE, as with child.

Isa.  Now for a broad-side; turn your prow to him, cousin.

[To her.

Non.  Now, gentlewoman! is this possible?

Const.  I do not reach your meaning, sir.

Non.  Where have you been of late?

Const.  I seldom stir without you, sir:  These walls most commonly confine me.

Non.  These walls can get no children; nor these hangings; though there be men wrought in ’em.

Isa.  Yet, by your favour, nuncle, children may be wrought behind the hangings.

Non.  O Constance, Constance!  How have my grey hairs deserved this of thee?  Who got that belly there?

Const.  You, I hope, sir.

Non.  Tell me the truth, for I will know it; come, the story.

Const.  The story’s quickly told, sir; I am with child.

Non.  And who is the father?

Const.  I do not know, sir.

Non.  Not know! went there so many to’t?

Const.  So far from that, that there were none at all, to my best knowledge, sir.

Non.  Was’t got by miracle?  Who was the father?

Const.  Who got your money, sir, that you have lost?

Non.  Nay, Heaven knows who got that.

Const.  And, Heaven knows who got this:  for, on my conscience, he, that had your money, was the father on’t.

Non.  The devil it was as soon.

Const.  That’s all I fear, sir.

Isa.  ’Tis strange;—­and yet ’twere hard, sir, to suspect my cousin’s virtue, since we know the house is haunted.

Non.  ’Tis true, that nothing can be laid, though under lock and key, but it miscarries.

Isa.  ’Tis not to be believed, what these villainous spirits can do:  they go invisible.

Const.  First, they stole away my prayer-book; and, a little after that, a small treatise I had against temptation; and when they were gone, you know, sir—­

Isa.  If there be such doings, pray heaven we are not all with child.  ’Tis certain, that none live within these walls, but they have power of:  I have reared Toby, the coachman, any time this fortnight.

Non.  Out, impudence!  A man with child! why ’tis unnatural.

Isa.  Ay, so is he that got it.

Non.  Thou art not in earnest?

Isa.  I would I were not:—­Hark!  I hear him groan hither.  Come in, poor Toby.

Enter TOBY, the coachman, with an urinal.