out the money, you know.

Put. Go, go, little villain; fetch thy chink; I begin to love
thee : Til be drunk to-night m thy company.

Pye. This gentleman I well may call a part
.Of my salvation in these earthly evils,
For he has saved me firom three hungry devils. [JEctVPyeboard.

Put. Sirrah sergeant, these maps are pretty painted things^but
I could ne*er fancy them yet : methinks they're too bu^, and
full of circles and conjurations. They sa^ all the world's in one
of them ; but I could ne'er find the Counter t in the Poultry.

Ra/o. I think so: how could you find it? for you know it
stands behind the houses.

Dog. Mass, that* s true ; then we must look o'er the back-side
for*! 'Sfoot here's nothing ; all's bare.

Rav. I vrarrant thee, that stands for the Counter ; for you
know there's a company of bare fellows there.

Put. 'Faith, like enough, sergeant; I never mark'd so nmch
before. Sirraii sereeant, and yeoman, I should love these maps
out o' cry now,§ if we could see men peep out of door in 'em.
O, we might have 'em in a morning to our breakfast so finely,
and ne'er knock our heels to the ground a whole day far 'em.

Rav. Ay, marry, Sir ; I'd buy one then myself. But this talk is
by the way. — Where shall us sup to-night ? Ilvepound received —
let's talk of that. I have a trick worth all Tou two shall bear
him to the tavern, whilst I go close with his hostess, and work
out of her. I know she would be glad of the sum, to finger
money, because she knows 'tis but a desperate debt, and fulTo
hazard. What will you say, if I bring it to pass that the hostes
shall be contented with one half for all, and we to share t'othe
fifty shillings, bullies ?

Put. Why, I would call thee king of sergeants, and thou
shouldst be chronifled in the Counter-book for ever.

♦ I. e. No doabt on*t.

t A pie-board (t. 0. a board on whidi bakers carry their pies to the
oven) is still called a peel {paelle, Fr. instrumefU depatigsier).
X The prison so called. i Beyond everything.



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8CBOT8V.1 THE PUEITAN. . 279

JZoD. Well, put it to me ; we'll make a night on't, i' faith.

J>og, 'Sfoot, I tiiink he receives more money, he stays so long.

P«<. He tarries long indeed. May he I can tell you, upon the
good liking on't, the gentleman may prove more bountiful.

JBUm, Tlmt would be rare ; we'll search him.

Pm<. Nay, be sure of it, we'll search him, and make him light
enough.

'Enter Gentleman.

Ttav. O, here comes the gentleman. By your leave. Sir.

Gent. God you good den,* Sirs. Would you speak with me ?

J?ut. No. not with your worship. Sir ; only we are bold to stay
for a friend of ours that went in with your worship.

Qent. Who ? not the scholar ?

Put, Yes, e'en he, an it please your worship.

Qent. Did he make you stav for him ? He did you wrong,
then : why, I can assure you he s gone above an hour ago.

J3iav. How, Sir.

Qent. I paid him his money, and x^ay man told me he went
out at hack-door.

iW. Back-door?

Gent. Why, what* 8 the matter ?

Pm#. He was our prisoner, Sir ; we did arrest him.

Gent. What ! he was not ! You, the sheriff's officers ! You
were to blame, then. Why did not you make known to me as
much ? I could have kept him for you. I protest, he received
all of me in Britain gold of the last coining.

JZac. Vengeance dog him with't !

Fut. 'Sfoot, has he gulled us so ?



JDiog, Where shall we sup now, sergeants ?

■ Sup, Simon, now if ejit porrid^ for a month.— -Well, we
cannot impute it to any lack of goodwill in your worship. You



:Put.



did but as another would have done. 'Twas our hard fortunes
to miss the purchase; — but if e'er we clutch him again, the
Counter shall charm lum.

It.cm. The Hole shall rot hiuLt

Dog. Amen. \JExewnt Sergeants.

Gent. So;
Vex out your lungs without doors. I am proud
It was my hap to help him. It fell fit ;
He went not empty neither for his wit.
Alas, poor wretch, I could not blame his brain.
To labour his delivery, to be free
From their unpitying fangs. I'm glad it stood
Within my power to do a scholar good. [Hxit.

* Good even.

t This alludes to the character of " Simon of Soathampton, alias Sap-
broth," in Thoniat of Reading.
X The Hole was one of the meanest apartments in the Ckjunter prison.



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2^ • THE PUBITAN. [ACTIU.

SCSNJE VI.— A Zoom in the MarshaUea Prison.
* Enter Idle ; to him PteboaED.

Idle. How, now ! Who's that ? What are you ?

Pye. The same that I should be, captain.

Idle. George Pyeboard ? Honest Gfeorge ? Why earnest thou
in half-faced, muffled so ?

Pye. O captain, I thought we should ne'er have laughed
again, ncTer spent froUc hour again.

IdU. Why? Why?

Pye. I coming to prepare thee, and with news
As happy as thy quick delivery.
Was traced out by the scent ; arrested, captain.

Idle. Arrested, Greorge ?

Pye. Arrested. Guess, guess,— how many dogs do you think I
had upon me ? •

IdU. Dogs ? I say, I know not.

Pye. Almost as many as George Stone, the bear ;* three at
once, three at once.

Idle. How didst thou shake them of^ then ?

Pye. The time is busy, and calls upoi\ our wits.
Let it suffice.

Here I stand safe, and scaped by miracle :
Some other hour shall tell thee, when we'll steep
Our eyes in laughter. Captain, my device
Leans to thy happiness ; for ere the day
Be spent to the girdle,t thou shalt be free.
The corporal 's in's first sleep ; the chain is miss'd ;
Thy kinsman has express'd thee \X ^^^ the old knight
With palsy haiiis, now labours thy release.
What rests, is all in thee ;— to conjure, captain.

Idle. Conjure ? 'Sfoot, George, you know, the devil a conjur-
ing I can conjure.

Pye. The aevil a conjuring ? Nay, by my fay, I'd not have
thee do so much, captain, as the devil a conjunne. Look here ; I
have brought thee a circle ready charactered anof all.

Idle. 'Sioot, George, art in thy right wits ? Dost know what
thou sayest ? Why dost talk to a captain of conjuring ? Di<tet
thou ever hear of a Captain Conjure in thv life ? Dost call't a
circle ? 'Tis too wide a thing, methinks ; had it been a lesser
circle, then I knew what to have done.

Pye. Why, every fool knows that, captain. Nay, then 111 not
cog with you, captain : if you'll stay and hang the next sessions,
you may.

Idle. No, by my faith, George. Come, come; lefs to con-
juring.

Pye. But if you look to be released (as my wits have took pain
to work it, and all means wrought to further it), besides to put

* George Stone was a noted bear exhibited at Paris Garden.
1 1, e. before mid-day. t I. e. drawn thee forward.



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SCENE TI.] THE PTTBITAN. 281

crowns in yoor purse, to make 70U a man of better hopes ; and
whereas, before you were a captam of poor ^Idiers, to make you
now a commander of rich fools, which is truly the only best
purchase peace can allow you, safer than highways, heath, or
oony-groves, and yet a far better booty ; for your greatest thieves
are never hanged, never hanged: for why? they're wise, and
cheat within doors ; and we geld fools of more money in one
night, than your false-tailed gelding* will purchase in twelve-
months' running; which confirms the old beldam's saying,
R^» wUeHy that Iceeps hvmaeJf warmeait ; that is, he that robs by
a good fire.

Idie. Well opened i* fiuth, George; thou hast puUed that
saying out of the husk.

Pye. Captain Idle, 'tis no time now to deludef or delay. The
old knight will be here suddenly ; I'll perfect you, direct you,
tell vou the trick on't: 'tis nothing.

Idle, 'Sfoot, Oeorse, I know not what to say to't Conjure P I
shall be hanged ere I conjure.

Pye. Nay, tell not me of that, captain : youll ne'er conjure
after you're hangecL I warrant you. Look you. Sir ; a parlous
matter, sure ! Pirst, to spread your circle upon the ground,
with a little conjuring ceremony (as I'll have an hackney-man's
wand silvered o'er o' purpose for you) ; then arriving in the
circle, with a huge word, and a great tnunple— as for instance^
have you never seen a stalking, stampingf puiyer. that will raise a
tempest with his tongue, and tnuhder with his neels ?

Idle, pyes, yes, yes; often, often.

Pye, Why be like such a one. Por anything will blear the
old knig^hf s eyes ; for you must note, that he'll ne'er dare to
venture into the room ; only perhaps peep fearAilly through the
keyhole^ see how the play goes forward

Idle, WelL I may go about it when I will ; but mark the end
ont ; I shall but smtme mvself i' ftdth, GeorgjS. Speak big words,
and stamp and stare, and he look in at keyhole 1 why the verv
thoug»it of that would make me laugh outrighl^ and spoil all
Nay, 111 tell thee, George ; when I apprehend a thing once, I am
of such a laxative laughter, that if the devil himself stood by, I
should laugh in his face.

Pye. Pun ! that* s but the babe of a man,t and mav easily be
husn'd i—as to think upon some disaster, some sad misfortune ;—
as the death of thy father i' the 6ountry .

Idle. 'Sfoot, that would be the more likel:f to drive me into
such an ecstasy, that I should ne'er lin" '



Pye, Why then think upon going to hangmd^.

Idle, Mass thaf s well remembered : Now I^ do well, I war-
rant thee ; ne'er fear me now. But how shall I do, George, for
boisterous word^ and horrible names ?

« I. e. a horse for a higrhwayman, with a false tail to take on and off.

t Lose time in talking.

t I. e. the devil is but the creature of man's imagination.

I /. e. leave off.



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283 THB PUBITAlff. [ACT IH*

Pye. Full ! any fustum inyoeationB, captain, will serve as well
as tne best, so you rant them out well: or you may go to a
^thecary's shop, and take all the words from the boxes.

Idle. Troth, and you say true, George ; there's strange words
enough to raise a hundred quack-salvers, though they be ne'esr
80 poor when they begin. But here lies tne fear on't ; how, if in
this £idse conjuration a true devil should -pop up indeed ?

Pye, A true deviL captain ? why there was ne'er such a one.
Kay, 'faith he that has this place, is as false a knave as our lart
church-warden.

Idle. Then he's false enough o' conscience, i' faith, Greorge.

Prisoners cry witMm'], Good gentlemen over the way, send your
relief : Good gentlemen over the way, — good Sir Gkxlfrey I

Pye. He's come, he's come.

Bnter SiB GoDFEET, Edmond, avid Nicholas.

Ifieh. Master, thafs my kinsman, yonder, in the buff jerkin.
Kinsman, thafs my master, yonder, i'the taffety hat. Praj
«dute him entirely.

[SiE GoDFBET and Idle salute, and Pyeboabd sdUdet
Edmond.

Sir Qod. Now my friend. [Sib Godfbey and Idle talk asidt,

Pye. May I partake your name. Sir ?

JEdm. My name is MTaster Edmond.

Pye. Master Edmond ? Are you not a Welshman, Sir ?

Edm. A Welshman ? why ?

Pye. Because Master is your Christian name, and Edmond
your sir-name.

Udm. O no : I have more names at home : Master Edmond
Plus is my full name at len^h.

Pye. O, cry you mercy. Sir.

Idle [aside to SiB GrODFBBY]. I understand that you are my
kinsman's good master ; and in regard of that, the best of my
skill is at your service. But had you fortuned a mere stnmger,
and made no means to me by acquaintance, I should have utteriy
denied to have been the man : both by reason of the act of Par-
liament against coniurers and witches, as also, because I would
not have my art vulgar, trite, and common.

Sir God. I much commend your care there, good captain
eonjurer ; and that I will be sure to have it private enouffh, yon
shall do't in my sister's house ; mine own house 1 may call it^ for
both our charges therein are proportion'd.*

Idle. Very good. Sir. What may I call your loss, Sir ?

Sir Qod. O you may call it a great loss, a grievous loss. Sir ; as
goodly a chahi ol %o\% though I say it, that wore it— How say'st
thou. Nicholas ?

Ifich. O 'twas as delicious a chain of gold, kinsman, ycm
know—

Sir Ghd, You know ? Did you know't, captain ?

Idle. Trust a fool with secrets !— Sir, he may say, I know. His

* We have equal shares in it.



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BCEHBYI.] THE PUBITAN. SSS

meaninff is, because my art is such, that by it I may gather a
kiM>wleage of all things.

Sir Ood. Ay, very true.

Idle. A pox of all fools ! The excuse stuck upon mjr tongue
like ship-pitch upon a mariner's gown, not to come off in haste.
[Aside. \ By'r lady, knight, to lose sucn a fair chain of gold, were
a foul loss. Well, 1 can put you in this good comfort on't : if it
be between heaven and eiurth, knight^ Til nave it for you.

8ir God. A wonderful ooujurer ! O ay, 'tis between heaven
and earth, I warrant you ; it cannot go out of the realm : I know
tifl somewhere above the earth ;—

Idle* Ay, nigher the earth than thou wot'st on. [Aside.

Sir Ood. For first, mv cham was rich, and no rich thing shall
enter into heaven, you know.

j^ich. And as for the devil^ master, he has no need on't ; for
you know he has a great cham of his own.

Sir Qod. Thou say'st true, Nicholas, but he has put off that
now ; that hes by him.

Idle. 'Faith, knight, in few words, I presume so much upon the
I>ower of my art^ that I could warrant your chain again.

Sir Ood. O damty captain !

Idle. Marry, it will cost me much sweat; I were better go to
sixteen hot-houses.*

Sir Ood. Ay, good man, I warrant thee.

Idle. Beside great vexation of kidney and liver.

Nich. O, 'twill tickle you hereabouts, cousin ; because you have
not been used to't.

Sir Ood. No, have you not been used to't, captain ?

Idle. Plague of all fools still ! [Aside.'] Indeed, knight, I have
not used it a good while, and therefore ^twill strain me so much
the more, you know.-

Sir Ood. O, it will, it will

Idle. What plunges he puts me to ! Were not this knight a
Ibol, I had been twice 8p<nl'd now. That captain's worse than
accursed that has an ass to his kinsman. 'SToot, I fear he will
drivel it out, before I come to't.~Now, Sir, to come to the point
indeed : You see I stick here in the jaw of the Marshalsea, and
oaonot do't.

Sir Ood. Tut, tut, I know thy meaning : thou wouldst say
tbou'rt aprisoner : 1 tell thee thou'rt none.

Idle. BLOW, none ? why, is not this the Marshalsea ?

Sir Ood. Wilt hear me speak ? I heard of thy rare conjuring ;
My chair was lost ; I sweat for thy release.
As thou Shalt do the like at home for me : —
Keeper.

Ihtler Eeepeb.

Keep. Sir.

Sit Ood. Speak^ is not this man free?

Keep. Yes, at his pleasure. Sir, the fees discharged.

Sir Ood. Go, go ; I'll discharge them, L

* I. e. brothels.



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284 THE FUSITAK. [aCT OX.

Keep, I thank your worship. rExH Eekfrb.

Idle, Now, trust me, }rou're a dear knight Kindness unex-
pected ! O, there's nothing to a A-ee gentleman. I will conjure
for you. Sir, till froth come through my buff ierkin.

Sir God. Na^r, then thou shalt not pass with so little a bounty ;
for at the first sight of my chain again, forty fine angels shall h>-
pear unto thee.

Idle. 'Twill be a glorious show, i'Mth, knight; a very fine
show. But are all these of your own house ? Are you sure of
that;SurP

Str Qod. Ay, ay ,— no, no. Whafs he yonder talking with
my wild nephew ? Pray heaven he give him good counsel.

Idle. Who, he P He's a rare friend of mine, an admiraMe fellow,
knight ; the finest fortune-teller.

Sir God. O ! tis he indeed, that came to m^ lad^ dster, and
foretold the loss of my chain : I am not ansry with mm now, for
I see 'twas my fortune to lose it By your leave, master fortune-
teller, I had a slimpse of you at home, at my sister'a the widow's :
there vou prophesied of the loss of a chain : simple* though I
stand here, I was he that lost it

iV«. Was it you. Sir?

Edm. (y my troth, nunde, he's the rarest fellow ; has told me
my fortune so right ! I find it so right to my nature.

Sir God. What ist P God send it a good one.

JEdm. O, 'tis a passing good one, nunde; for he says I shall
prove such an excellent gamester in my time, that I shall spend
all faster than my father got it

Sir God. There's a fortune indeed.

JEdm. Nay. it hits my humour so pat

Sir God. Ay, that will be the end on't Will the curse of the
beggar prevail so much, that the son shall consume that foolishly
which the ftither got craftily P Ay, ay, ay ; 'twill, 'twill, 'twilL

Ffe. Stay, stay, stay.

[Opens an JInuinack, and takes Idle aside*

Idle. Turn over, George.

Fye. June— July — ^Here, July; thafs this month; Sunday
thirteen, yesterday fourteen, to-day fifteen.

Idle. lx>ok quickly for the fifteenth day. If within the com-
pass of these two days there would be some boisterous storm or
other, it would be the best; I'd defer him off till then. Some
tempest^n it be thy will

Py«. Here's the fifteenth day. [Beads] Hot and fair.

Idle. Fuh ! would it had been hot and foul.

Pye. The sixteenth day ; thafs to-morrow : [JEieads'] The mom"
ing for the most part fatr and pleasant —

IdU. No luck.

iV^- ^^t about Mgh-noon, lightning and thunder.

Idle. Lightning and thunder P admirable ! best of all ! HI
conjure to-morrow just at high-noon, George.

JPye. Happen but true to-morrow, almanack, and ni give thee
leave to Ue all the year after.



* J. e. a simple gentleman.



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BCSHBYI.] THB FtTBITAK. 285

laUe. Sir, I must crave your patience, to bestow this day upon
me, that I may fUmish myself strongly. I sent a spirit mto
Lancashire f otner day, to fetch back a Knave drover, and I look
for his return this evening. To-morrow morning my friend
here and I wiU come and bresikfast with you.

Sir Ood. O, you shall be most welcome.

Idle, And about noon, without fail, I purpose to conjure.

jS^ €hd. Mid-noon will be a fine time for you.

Sdm. Conjuring ? Do you mean to conjure at our house to-
morrow. Sir?

Idle, Marry do L Sir ; 'tis my intent, voung gentleman.

JEdm, By mv troth, M love you while I five for't. O rare !
Nicholas, we snail have conjuring to-morrow.

Ifich, Puh ! ay, I could da' told you of that

Idle, La, he could have told him of that ! fool, coxcomb, could
you ? I Aside,

Sdm. Do you hear me. Sir ? I desire more acquaintance on
you. You wall earn some monev of me, now I Imow you can
oonjure : — but can you fetch any that is lost ?

Idle. O^anything thaf s lost

£!dm. Why look you, Sir, I tell it you as a Mend and a con-
jurer. I should marry a Apothecary's daughter, and 'twas told
me, she lost her maiden-head at Stony-Stratfbrd : now if you'll
do but so much as conjure for't, and maike all whole again —

IdU, That I will, Sir.

JEdm, By my troth I thank you, la.

Idle. A little merry with your sister's son, Sir.

Sir Ood. O, a simple young man, very simple. Come, captain,
and vou. Sir ; we'll e^en part with a gallon of wine till to-morrow
breakfast

^ \ Troth, agreed. Sir.

Nich. Kinsman— scholar.

I*ye. Why now thou art a good knave ; worth a hundred
Brownists.*
Nick. Am I indeed, la ? I thank you heartily, la. IJSxeunt,



ACT IV.

SCENE I.— An Apartment in the Widou^a Howe,
Enter MiBT cmd SiB JOHK Penkydttb.

Sir JoJm. But I hope you will not serve a knight so, gentle-
woman, will you P to cashier him, and cast him off at your
pleasure ! What do you think I was dubVd for nothing ? No,
by my fiiith, lady's daughter.

Mary. Prav, Si|^ John Pennydub, let it be deferr*d awhile. I
have as big a neaix to marry as you can have ; but as tiie fortune-
teller told me—

* Sectaries, bo caUed firom Robert Brown.



dbyGoOgk



286 THE PUBITAH". [aCTIV.

Sir John. Pox o' the fortune-teller ! Would Derrick had been
his fortune seven years ago,* to cross my love thus ! IXd he
know what case I was in ? Why this is able to make a man
drown himself in his father's fish-pond.

!^ary. And then he told me, moreover. Sir John, that the
breach of it kept my father in purgatory.

^ John. In purgatory ? why let mm purge out his heart
there ; what have we to do with that P There's physicians enou^
there to cast his water :t is that anv matter to us ? How can he
hinder our love ? Why let him be hanged, now he's dead.—
Well, have I rid post day and night, to bring you merry news of
my father's deatl^ and now

Ma/ry. Thy father's death ? Is the old farmer dead ?

8i/r John, As dead as his barn-door, Moll

Mary. And you'll keep your word with me now Sir John ;
that I shall have my coach and my coachman ?

Sir John. Ay, 'faith.

Mary. And two white horses with black feathers to draw it?

Sir John. Two.

Mary. A guarded lackey to run before it,^ <uid pyed liveries to
come trailing after't ?

Sir John. Thou shalt, Moll.

Mary. And to let me have money in my purse, to go whither
Iwill?

Sir John. All this.

Mary. Then, come ; whatsoe'er comes on't, we'll be made sure
together before the maids i' the kitchen. \_ExemU,

SCENE IL—A Boom in the Widov^a House, with a doof^ txt
the side, leading to another apartment.

Enter WlDOVT, FRANCES, and Pbailtt.

Wid. How, now ? Where's my brother Sir Godfrey ? Went
he forth this morning ?

Frail. O no, madam ; he's above at breakfast, with (Sir Beve-
rence) a conjurer.

Wid. A conjurer ! What manner of fellow is he ?

Frail. O, a wondrous rare fellow, mistress ; very stron{^
made upward, for he goes in a buff jerkin. He says he will
fetch Sir Gknlirey's chain again, if it hang between heaven and
earth.

Wid. What! he will not? Then he's an excellent fellow, I
warrant. How happy were that woman to be blest with sucn a
husband ! A cunmng man ! How does he look. Frailty ? Very
swartly, I warrant; with black beard, scorched cheeks, and
smoky eyebrows.

Frail. Fo! He's neither smoke-dried, nor soorched. nor
black, nor nothing. I tell you, madam, he looks as £Edr lo see
to as one of us. I do not think but if you saw him onoe, you'd
take him to be a Christian. «

* Derrick was the common hangman at the time.

t I. e. to inspect it.

X A running footman with facings to bis livery.



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8CBVEII.] THB PUBITAir. 287

IVan, So fair, and yet so cuiming ! thal^s to be wondered at,
mother.

Unter SiB Oliveb Mtjckhill and SiB Andbew Tipstaff.

Sir Olio. Bless you, sweet lady.

Sir And, And you, ftur mistress. [Exit Fbatltt.

Wid. Coades ! what do you mean, gentlemen? Fie, did I not
give you your answers ?

Sir OUo. Sweet lady.

Wid. Well, I will not stick with you for a kiss : daughter, kiss
the gentleman for once.

Fr€m. Te^ forsooth.

Sir And. I'm proud of such a fiiyour.

Wid. Truly la^ Sir Ohver, you're much to blame, to come
again when you know my mmd so well deUvered as a widow
could deliver a thing.

Sir Olio. But I expect a further oomfort> lady.

Wid. Why la you now ! did I not desire you to put off your
suit quite and clean when you came to me again? How say
you ? Did I not ?

Sir OUo. But the sincere love which my heart bears you —

Wid. Go to, Fll cut you off :— And, Sup Ohver, to put you in
comfort afar off, my fortune is read me ; I must marry, again.

Sir Olio, O blest fortune !

Wid. But not as long as I can choose:— nay, Fll hold out
well

Sir OUo. Yet are my hopes now fairer.

Enter Fbailty.

Frail. O madam, madam.

Wid. How, now ? what* s the haste ? [Fbailty whispers her.

Sir And. 'Faith, Mistress Frances, Fll maintain you gallantly.
Ill bring you to court ; wean you among the fidr society of ladies,
poor kinswomen of mine, in cloth of silver : beside, you shall
have your monkey, your parrot, and your musk-cat, and your
Pisse, Fisse, Fisse.

Fran. It will do very well.

Wid. What, does he mean to conjure here, then ? How shall
I do to be rid of these knights ?— Please you, arentlemen, to walk
awhile in the garden, to gather a pink, or a gillyflower ?

Both. With all our hearts, lady, ana 'count us &voured.

[Exeunt SiB Andbew, SiB Olivbe, and Fbailty. The
Widow and Fbances go into the adjoining room.

Sir Ood. [within\. Step in, Kicholas ; look, is the coast
clear?

Nich. [ioitMn]. O, as clear as a caf s eye. Sir.

Sir God. [mtAin']. Then enter, Captain Conjurer.

Enter SiB GoDFBBY, Idle, Pyeboabd, Edmond, and
Nicholas.
Now, how like you your room. Sir ?
Idle. O, wonderful convenient.

* Perhaps he means a lapdog.



dbyGoOgk



288 THE PITBITAK. L^CT IV.

Edm, I can tell you, captain, simply thon^ it lies here,* 'tis
the Surest room in mymother's house : as damty a room to con-
jure in, methinks— Why, you may bid, I cannot tell how many
devils welcome in't ; my father has had twenty in't at once.

Fye. What! devils?

JBdm, Devils! no; deputies,~and the wealthiest men he
oould get

Sir Oqd. Najv, put by your chats now ; fall to your business
joundly: the lescuet of the dial is upon the cnristHjross of
noon. But O, hear me, captain; a quahn comes o'er my
stomach.

Idle, Why. what* s the matter. Sir ?