The Puritaine Widdow Part 11

FRAILTY.

There's none, Simon, but Master Pilfer the Tailor: he's above with Sir G.o.dfrey praising of a Doublet: and I must trudge anon to fetch Master Suds, the Barber.

SIMON.

Master Suds,--a good man; he washes the sins of the Beard clean.

[Enter old Skirmish the soldier.]

SKIRMISH.

How now, creatures? what's a clock?

FRAILTY.

Why, do you take us to be Jack ath' Clock-house?

SKIRMISH.

I say again to you what's a clock.

SIMON.

Truly la, we go by the clock our conscience: all worldly Clocks, we know, go false, and are set by drunken s.e.xtons.

SKIRMISH.

Then what's a clock in your conscience?--oh, I must break off, here comes the corporal--hum, hum!--what's a clock?

[Enter Corporal.]

CORPORAL.

A clock? why, past seventeen.

FRAILTY.

Past seventeen? nay, ha's met with his match now, Corporal Oath will fit him.

SKIRMISH.

Thou doost not bawk or baffle me, doost thou? I am a Soldier--past seventeen!

CORPORAL.

Aye, thou art not angry with the figures, art thou? I will prove it unto thee: 12. and 1. is thirteen, I hope, 2.

fourteen, 3. fifteen, 4. sixteen, and 5. Seventeen; then past seventeen: I will take the Dials part in a just cause.

SKIRMISH.

I say 'tis but past five, then.

CORPORAL.

I'll swear 'tis past seventeen, then: doost thou not know numbers? Canst thou not cast?

SKIRMISH.

Cast? dost thou speak of my casting ith' street?

CORPORAL.

Aye, and in the Market place.

SIMON.

Clubs, clubs, clubs!

[Simon runs in.]

FRAILTY.

Aye, I knew by their shuffling, Clubs would be Trump; ma.s.s, here's the Knave, and he can do any good upon 'em: Clubs, clubs, clubs.

[Enter Pye-board.]

CORPORAL.

O villain, thou hast opened a vein in my leg.

PYE.

How no! for shame, for shame; put up, put up.

CORPORAL.

By yon blue Welkin, 'twas out of my part, George, to be hurt on the leg.

[Enter Officers.]

PYE.

Oh peace now--I have a Cordial here to comfort thee.

OFFICER.

Down with 'em, down with em; lay hands upon the villain.

SKIRMISH.

Lay hands on me?

PYE.

I'll not be seen among em now.

[Exit Pye-board.]

CORPORAL.

I'm hurt, and had more need have Surgeons Lay hands upon me then rough Officers.

OFFICER.

Go, carry him to be dressed then.

[Exeunt some of the Sheriff's Officers with Corporal Oath.]

This mutinous Soldier shall along with me to prison.

SKIRMISH.

To prison? where's George?

OFFICER.

Away with him.