behind
the curtains, while I run to the door, to stop her entry.

_Trick._ Necessity has no law; I must be patient.
[_She gets into the Bed, and draws the clothes over her._

_Enter_ SAINTLY.

_Saint._ In sadness, gentleman, I can hold no longer: I will not keep
your wicked counsel, how you were locked up in the chest; for it lies
heavy upon my conscience, and out it must, and shall.

_Wood._ You may tell, but who will believe you? where's your witness?

_Saint._ Verily, heaven is my witness.

_Wood._ That's your witness too, that you would have allured me to
lewdness, have seduced a hopeful young man, as I am; you would have
enticed youth: Mark that, beldam.

_Saint._ I care not; my single evidence is enough to Mr Limberham; he
will believe me, that thou burnest in unlawful lust to his beloved: So
thou shalt be an outcast from my family.

_Wood._ Then will I go to the elders of thy church, and lay thee open
before them, that thou didst feloniously unlock that chest, with
wicked intentions of purloining: So thou shalt be excommunicated from
the congregation, thou Jezebel, and delivered over to Satan.

_Saint._ Verily, our teacher will not excommunicate me, for taking the
spoils of the ungodly, to clothe him; for it is a judged case amongst
us, that a married woman may steal from her husband, to relieve a
brother. But yet them mayest atone this difference betwixt us; verily,
thou mayest.

_Wood._ Now thou art tempting me again. Well, if I had not the gift of
continency, what might become of me?

_Saint._ The means have been offered thee, and thou hast kicked with
the heel. I will go immediately to the tabernacle of Mr Limberham, and
discover thee, O thou serpent, in thy crooked paths. [_Going._

_Wood._ Hold, good landlady, not so fast; let me have time to consider
on't; I may mollify, for flesh is frail. An hour or two hence we will
confer together upon the premises.

_Saint._ Oh, on the sudden, I feel myself exceeding sick! Oh! oh!

_Wood._ Get you quickly to your closet, and fall to your _mirabilis_;
this is no place for sick people. Begone, begone!

_Saint._ Verily, I can go no farther.

_Wood._ But you shall, verily. I will thrust you down, out of pure
pity.

_Saint._ Oh, my eyes grow dim! my heart quops, and my back acheth!
here I will lay me down, and rest me.
[_Throws herself suddenly down upon the Bed;_
TRICKSY _shrie