Trick. [Aloud.] It shall not be opened; I will have my will, though I lose my settlement.  Would I were within the chest!  I would hold it down, to spite you.  I say again, would I were within the chest, I would hold it so fast, you should not open it.—­The best on’t is, there’s good inkle on the top of the inside, if he have the wit to lay hold on’t. [Aside.

Limb. [Going to open it.] Before George, I think you have the devil in a string, Pug; I cannot open it, for the guts of me. Hictius doctius! what’s here to do?  I believe, in my conscience, Pug can conjure:  Marry, God bless us all good Christians!

Aldo. Push hard, son.

Limb. I cannot push; I was never good at pushing.  When I push, I think the devil pushes too.  Well, I must let it alone, for I am a fumbler.  Here, take the keys, Pug.

Trick. [Aside.] Then all’s safe again.

  Enter JUDITH and GERVASE.

Jud. Madam, Mrs Pleasance has sent for the chest you borrowed of her.  She has present occasion for it; and has desired us to carry it away.

Limb. Well, that’s but reason:  If she must have it, she must have it.

Trick Tell her, it shall be returned some time to-day; at present we must crave her pardon, because we have some writings in it, which must first be taken out, when we can open it.

Limb. Nay, that’s but reason too:  Then she must not have it.

Gerv. Let me come to’t; I’ll break it open, and you may take out your writings.

Limb. That’s true:  ’Tis but reasonable it should be broken open.

Trick. Then I may be bound to make good the loss.

Limb. ’Tis unreasonable it should be broken open.

Aldo. Before George, Gervase and I will carry it away; and a smith shall be sent for to my daughter Pleasance’s chamber, to open it without damage.

Limb. Why, who says against it?  Let it be carried; I’m all for reason.

Trick. Hold; I say it shall not stir.

Aldo. What? every one must have their own; Fiat justitia, aut ruat mundus.

Limb. Ay, fiat justitia, Pug:  She must have her own; for justitia is Latin for justice. [ALDO and GERV. lift at it.

Aldo. I think the devil’s in’t.

Gerv. There’s somewhat bounces, like him, in’t.  ’Tis plaguy heavy; but we’ll take t’other heave.

Trick. [Taking hold of the chest.] Then you shall carry me too.  Help, murder, murder! [A confused gabbling among them.

  Enter Mrs SAINTLY.

Saint. Verily, I think all hell’s broke loose among you.  What, a schism in my family!  Does this become the purity of my house?  What will the ungodly say?