[SCENE V.]

Enter Merry and Rachell.

Mer. Why go the neighbours round about the streete To every house? what hast thou heard the cause?

Rach. They go about with that same Salters man, Of whom I bought the bag but yesterday, To see if he can know the maide againe Which bought it: this I think the very cause.

Mer. How were my senses overcome with feare, That I could not foresee this jeopardy! For had I brought the bag away with me, They had not had this meanes to finde it out. Hide thee above least that the Salters man Take notice of thee that thou art the maide, And by that knowledge we be all undone.

Rach. That feare is past, I sawe, I spake with him, Yet he denies that I did buy the bag; Besides the neighbours have no doubt of you, Saying you are an honest harmelesse man, And made enquirie heere for fashion sake.

Mer. My former life deserves their good conceits, Which is not blemisht with this treacherie. My heart is merier then it was before, For now I hope the greatest feare is past. The hammer is denyed, the bag unknowne; Now there is left no meanes to bring it out, Unless our selves proove Traitors to our selves.

Rach. When saw you Hary Williams?

Me. Why, to day; I met him comming home from Powles Crosse, Where he had beene to heare a Sermon.

Rach. Why brought you not the man along with you To come to dinner, that we might perswade Him to continue in his secrecie?

Mer. I did intreate him, but he would not come, But vow'd to be as secret as my selfe.

Rach. What, did he sweare?

Mer. What neede you aske me that? You know we never heard him sweare an othe. But since he hath conceal'd the thing thus long, I hope in God he will conceale it still.

Rach. Pray God he do, and then I have no doubt But God will overpasse this greevous sinne, If you lament with true unfained teares And seeke to live the remnant of your yeares In Gods true feare with upright conscience.

Mer. If it would please him pardon this amisse And rid my body from the open shame That doth attend this deed, being brought to light, I would endevour all my comming dayes To please my maker and exalt his praise. But it growes late, come bring me to my bed, That I may rest my sorrow-charged head.

Rach. Rest still in calme secure tranquillitie, And over-blowe this storme of mightie feare With pleasant gales of hoped quietnesse. Go when you will; I will attend, and pray To send this wofull night a cheerfull day.

[Exeunt.