The Puritain Widow | Page 9

as sure on't as I am sure he will deny to do't.
NICHOLAS. I would be heartily glad, Cousin, if any of my friendships, as they say, might--stand--ah--
PYE. Why, you see he offers his friendship foolishly to you already.
CAPTAIN. Aye, that's the hell on't, I would he would offer it wisely.
NICHOLAS. Verily, and indeed la, Cousin--
CAPTAIN. I have took note of thy fleers a good while: if thou art minded to do me good--as thou gapst upon me comfortably, and giv'st me charitable faces, which indeed is but a fashion in you all that are Puritains--wilt soon at night steal me thy Master's chain?
NICHOLAS. Oh, I shall swoon!
PYE. Corporal, he starts already.
CAPTAIN. I know it to be worth three hundred Crowns, and with the half of that I can buy my life at a Brokers, at second hand, which now lies in pawn to th' Law: if this thou refuse to do, being easy and nothing dangerous, in that thou art held in good opinion of thy Master, why tis a palpable Argument thou holdst my life at no price, and these thy broken and unioynted offers are but only created in thy lip, now borne, and now buried, foolish breath only. What, woult do't? shall I look for happiness in thy answer?
NICHOLAS. Steal my Master's chain, qu'the? no, it shall ne'er be said, that Nicholas Saint Tantlings committed Bird-lime!
CAPTAIN. Nay, I told you as much; did I not? tho he be a Puritain, yet he will be a true man.
NICHOLAS. Why, Cousin, you know tis written, thou shalt not steal.
CAPTAIN. Why, and fool, thou shalt love thy Neighbour, and help him in extremities.
NICHOLAS. Mass, I think it be, indeed: in what Chapter's that, Cousin?
CAPTAIN. Why, in the first of Charity, the 2. Verse.
NICHOLAS. The first of Charity, quatha! that's a good jest; there's no such
Chapter in
my book!
CAPTAIN. No, I knew twas torn out of thy Book, and that makes so little in thy heart.
PYE. Come, let me tell you, ya're too unkind a Kinsman, yfaith; the Captain loving you so dearly, aye, like the Pomwater of his eye, and you to be so uncomfortable: fie, fie.
NICHOLAS. Pray, do not wish me to be hangd: any thing else that I can do, had it been to rob, I would ha don't; but I must not steal: that's the word, the literal, thou shalt not steal; and would you wish me to steal, then?
PYE. No, faith, that were too much, to speak truth: why, woult thou nim it from him?
NICHOLAS. That I will!
PYE. Why, ynough, bully; he shall be content with that, or he shall ha none; let me alone with him now! Captain, I ha dealt with your Kins-man in a Corner; a good, kind-natured fellow, me thinks: go to, you shall not have all your own asking, you shall bate somewhat on't: he is not contented absolutely, as you would say, to steal the chain from him,-- but to do you a pleasure, he will nim it from him.
NICHOLAS. Aye, that I will, Cousin.
CAPTAIN. Well, seeing he will do no more, as far as I see, I must be contented with that.
CORPORAL. Here's no notable gullery!
PYE. Nay, I'll come nearer to you, Gentleman: because we'll have only but a help and a mirth on't, the knight shall not lose his chain neither, but it shall be only laid out of the way some one or two days.
NICHOLAS. Aye, that would be good indeed, Kinsman.
PYE. For I have a farder reach to profit us better by the missing on't only, than if we had it out-right, as my discourse shall make it known to you.--When thou hast the chain, do but convey it out at back-door into the Garden, and there hang it close in the Rosemary bank but for a small season; and by that harmless device, I know how to wind Captain Idle out of prison: the Knight thy Master shall get his pardon and release him, and he satisfy thy Master with his own chain, and wondrous thanks on both hands.
NICHOLAS. That were rare indeed, la: pray, let me know how.
PYE. Nay, tis very necessary thou shouldst know, because thou must be employed as an Actor.
NICHOLAS. An Actor? O no, that's a Player; and our Parson rails again Players mightily, I can tell you, because they brought him drunk up'oth Stage once,--as he will be horribly drunk.
CORPORAL. Mass, I cannot blame him then, poor Church-spout.
PYE. Why, as an Intermedler, then?
NICHOLAS. Aye, that, that.
PYE. Give me Audience, then: when the old Knight thy Master has raged his fill for the loss of the chain, tell him thou hast a Kinsman in prison, of such exquisite Art, that the devil himself is French Lackey to him, and runs bare-headed by his horse-belly (when he has one) whom he will cause