Vol. No, no, I dare not trust my self with women, go to your meat, eat little, take less ease, and tie your body to a daily labour, you may live honestly, and so I thank you. [Exit.

Wid. Well go thy ways, thou art a noble fellow, and some means I must work to have thee know it. [Exit.

Actus Quintus.  Scena Prima.

Enter Uncle, and Merchant.

Unc. Most certain ’tis her hands that hold him up, and her sister relieves Frank.

Mer. I am glad to hear it:  but wherefore do they not pursue this fortune to some fair end?

Unc. The women are too craftie, Valentine too coy, and Frank too bashfull, had any wise man hold of such a blessing, they would strike it out o’th’ flint but they would form it.

Enter Widow, and Shorthose.

Mer. The Widow sure, why does she stir so early?

Wid. ’Tis strange, I cannot force him to understand me, and make a benefit of what I would bring him:  tell my sister I’le use my devotions at home this morning, she may if she please go to Church.

Short. Hey ho.

Wid. And do you wait upon her with a torch Sir.

Short. Hey ho.

Wid. You lazie Knave.

Short. Here is such a tinkle tanklings that we can ne’re lie quiet, and sleep our prayers out. Ralph, pray emptie my right shooe that you made your Chamber-pot, and burn a little Rosemarie in’t, I must wait upon my Lady.  This morning Prayer has brought me into a consumption, I have nothing left but flesh and bones about me.

Wid. You drousie slave, nothing but sleep and swilling!

Short. Had you been bitten with Bandog fleas, as I have been, and haunted with the night Mare.

Wid. With an Ale-pot.

Short. You would have little list to morning Prayers, pray take my fellow Ralph, he has a Psalm Book, I am an ingrum man.

Wid. Get you ready quickly, and when she is ready wait upon her handsomely; no more, be gone.

Short. If I do snore my part out—­ [Exit Short.

Unc. Now to our purposes.

Mer. Good morrow, Madam.

Wid. Good morrow, Gentlemen.

Unc. Good joy and fortune.

Wid. These are good things, and worth my thanks, I thank you Sir.

Mer. Much joy I hope you’l find, we came to gratulate your new knit marriage-band.

Wid. How?

Unc. He’s a Gentleman, although he be my kinsman, my fair Niece.

Wid. Niece, Sir?

Unc. Yes Lady, now I may say so, ’tis no shame to you, I say a Gentleman, and winking at some light fancies, which you most happily may affect him for, as bravely carried, as nobly bred and managed.