Chapter V: Epilogue (2)

_Cell._ Do not rave, Sir,
Nor let the violence of thoughts distract ye,
You shall enjoy me: I am yours: I pity,
By those fair eyes I do.

_Fra._ O double hearted!
O Woman, perfect Woman! what distraction
Was meant to mankind when thou was't made a Devil!
What an inviting Hell invented! tell me,
And if you yet remember what is goodness,
Tell me by that, and truth, can one so cherish'd
So sainted in the soul of him, whose service
Is almost turn'd to superstition,
Whose every day endeavours and desires
Offer themselves like Incense on your Altar,
Whose heart holds no intelligence, but holy
And most Religious with his love; whose life
(And let it ever be remembred Lady)
Is drawn out only for your ends.

_Val._ O miracle!

_Fra._ Whose all, and every part of man: pray make me
Like ready Pages wait upon your pleasures;
Whose breath is but your bubble. Can ye, dare ye,
Must ye cast off this man, though he were willing,
Though in a nobleness, so cross my danger
His friendship durst confirm it, without baseness,
Without the stain of honour? shall not people
Say liberally hereafter, there's the Lady
That lost her Father, friend, herself, her faith too,
To fawn upon a stranger, for ought you know
As faithless as yourself, in love as fruitless.

_Val._ Take her with all my heart, thou art so honest
That 'tis most necessary I be undone.
[With all my soul possess her.] [_Exit_ Val.

_Cell._ Till this minute,
I scorn'd, and hated ye, and came to cozen ye:
Utter'd those things might draw a wonder on me,
To make ye mad.

_Fra._ Good Heaven, what is this Woman?

_Cell._ Nor did your danger, but in charity,
Move me a whit: nor you appear unto me
More than a common object; yet now truly,
Truly, and nobly I do love ye dearly,
And from this hour ye are the man I honour,
You are the man, the excellence, the honesty,
The only friend, and I am glad your sickness
Fell so most happily at this time on ye,
To make this truth the worlds.

_Fra._ Whither do you drive me?

_Cell._ Back to your honesty, make that good ever,
'Tis like a strong built Castle, seated high,
That draws on all ambitions, still repair it,
Still fortifie it: there are thousand foes
Besides the Tyrant Beauty, will assail it:
Look to your Centinels that watch it hourly,
Your eyes, let them not wander.

_Fra._ Is this serious?
Or does she play still with me?

_Cell._ Keep your ears,
The two main Ports that may betray ye, strongly
From light belief first, then from flattery,
Especially where Woman beats the parley:
The body of your strength, your noble heart
From ever yielding to dishonest ends,
Rig'd round about with vertue, that no breaches,
No subtil [mynes] may meet ye.

_Fra._ How like the Sun
Labouring in his Eclipse, dark, and prodigious,
She shew'd till now? when having won her way,
How full of wonder he breaks out again,
And sheds his vertuous beams: excellent Angel,
For no less can that heavenly mind proclaim thee,
Honour of all thy sex, let it be lawful,
And like a Pilgrim thus I kneel to beg it,
Not with prophane lips now, nor burnt affections,
But, reconcil'd to faith, with holy wishes,
To kiss that virgin hand.

_Cel._ Take your desire, Sir,
And in a nobler way, for I dare trust ye,
No other fruit my love must ever yield ye,
I fear no more: yet your most constant memory
(So much I am wedded to that worthiness)
Shall ever be my Friend, Companion, Husband.
Farewel, and fairly govern your affections,
Stand, and deceive me not: O noble young man,
I love thee with my soul, but dare not say it:
Once more farewel, and prosper. [_Exit._

_Fra._ Goodness guide thee:
My wonder like to fearful shapes in dreams,
Has wakened me out of my fit of folly,
But not to shake it off: a spell dwells in me,
A hidden charm shot from this beauteous Woman,
That fate can ne'r avoid, nor Physick find,
And by her counsel strengthen'd: only this
Is all the help I have, I love fair vertue.
Well, something I must do, to be a friend,
Yet I am poor, and tardy: something for her too
Though I can never reach her excellence,
Yet but to give an offer at a greatness.

_Enter_ Valentine, Thomas, Hylas, _and_ Sam.

_Val._ Be not uncivil _Tom_, and take your pleasure.

_Tho._ Do you think I am mad? you'l give me leave
To try her fairly?

_Val._ Do your best.

_Tho._ Why there Boy,
But where's the sick man?

_Hyl._ Where are the Gentlewomen
That should attend him? there's the Patient.
Me thinks these Women--

_Tho._ Thou think'st nothing else.

_Val._ Go to him friend, and comfort him: I'le lead ye:
O my best joy, my worthiest friend, pray pardon me,
I am so over-joy'd I want expression:
I may live to be thankful: bid your friends welcome.

[_Exit_ Val.

_Tho._ How do'st thou _Frank_? how do'st thou Boy? bear up man:
What, shrink i'th' sinews for a little sickness?
_Deavolo morte._

_Fra._ I am o'th' mending hand.

_Tho._ How like a Flute thou speak'st: o'th' mending hand man?
Gogs bores, I am well, speak like a man of worship.

_Fran._ Thou art a mad companion: never staid _Tom_.

_Tho._ Let Rogues be staid that have no habitation,
A Gentleman may wander: sit thee down _Frank_,
And see what I have brought thee: come discover,
Open the Scene, and let the work appear.
A friend at need you Rogue is worth a million.

_Fra._ What hast thou there, a julip?

_Hyl._ He must not touch it,
'Tis present death.

_Tho._ Ye are an Ass, a twirepipe,
A _Jeffery John bo peepe_, thou mimister,
Thou mend a left-handed pack-saddle, out puppey,
My friend _Frank_, but a very foolish fellow:
Do'st thou see that Bottle? view it well.

_Fran._ I do _Tom_.

_Tho._ There be as many lives in't, as a Cat carries,
'Tis everlasting liquor.

_Fran._ What?

_Tho._ Old Sack, Boy,
Old reverend Sack, which for ought that I can read yet,
Was that Philosophers Stone the wise King _Ptolomeus_
Did all his wonders by.

_Fran._ I see no harm _Tom_,
Drink with a moderation.

_Tho._ Drink with suger,
Which I have ready here, and here a glass boy,
Take me without my tools.

_Sam._ Pray Sir be temperate,
You know your own state best.

_Fra._ Sir, I much thank ye,
And shall be careful: yet a glass or two
So fit I find my body, and that so needful.

_Tho._ Fill it, and leave your fooling: thou say'st true _Frank_.

_Hyl._ Where are these Women I say?

_Tho._ 'Tis most necessary,
Hang up your Julips and your _Portugal_ Possets,
Your barley Broths, and sorrel Sops, they are mangy,
And breed the Scratches only: give me Sack:
I wonder where this Wench is though: have at thee.

_Hyl._ So long, and yet no bolting?

_Fra._ Do, I'le pledge thee.

_Tho._ Take it off thrice, and then cry heigh like a Huntsman
With a clear heart, and no more fits I warrant thee.
The only Cordial, _Frank_. [_Phys. and Serv. within._

_1 Phys._ Are the things ready?
And is the Barber come?

_Ser._ An hour ago, Sir.

_1 Phys._ Bring out the Oyls then.

_Fran._ Now or never Gentlemen,
Do me a kindness and deliver me.

_Tho._ From whom boy?

_Fra._ From these things, that talk within there,
Physicians, _Tom_, Physicians, scowring-sticks,
They mean to read upon me.

_Enter three Phys. Apoth. and Barber._

_Hyl._ Let 'em enter.

_Tho._ And be thou confident, we will deliver thee:
For look ye Doctor, say the Devil were sick now,
His horns saw'd off, and his head bound with a Biggin,
Sick of a Calenture, taken by a Surfeit
Of stinking souls at his Nephews, and Sᵗ _Dunstans_,
What would you minister upon the sudden?
Your judgment short and sound.

_1 Phy._ A fools head.

_Tho._ No Sir,
It must be a Physicians for three causes,
The first because it is a bald-head likely,
Which will down easily without Applepap.

_3 Phy._ A main cause.

_Tho._ So it is, and well consider'd.
The second, for 'tis fill'd with broken Greek, Sir,
Which will so tumble in his stomach, Doctor,
And work upon the crudities, conceive me,
The fears, and the fiddle-strings within it,
That those damn'd souls must disembogue again.

_Hyl._ Or meeting with the stygian humour.

_Tho._ Right, Sir.

_Hyl._ Forc'd with a Cataplasm of Crackers.

_Tho._ Ever.

_Hyl._ Scowre all before him, like a Scavenger.

_Tom._ _Satis fecisti domine_, my last cause,
My last is, and not least, most learned Doctors,
Because in most Physicians heads (I mean those
That are most excellent, and old withal,
And angry, though a Patient say his prayers,
And _Paracelsians_ that do trade with poisons,
We have it by tradition of great writers)
There is a kind of Toad-stone bred, whose vertue
The Doctor being dri'd.

_1 Phy._ We are abus'd sirs.

_Hyl._ I take it so, or shall be, for say the Belly-ake
Caus'd by an inundation of Pease-porridge,
Are we therefore to open the port Vein,
Or the port Esquiline?

_Sam._ A learned question:
Or grant the Diaphragma by a Rupture,
The sign being then in the head of _Capricorn_.

_Tho._ Meet with the passion Huperchondriaca,
And so cause a Carnosity in the Kidneyes.
Must not the brains, being butter'd with this humour--
Answer me that.

_Sam._ Most excellently argued.

_2 Phy._ The next fit you will have, my most fine Scholar,
Bedlam shall find a Salve for: fare ye well Sir,
We came to do you good, but these young Doctors
It seems have bor'd our Noses.

_3 Phy._ Drink hard Gentlemen,
And get unwholesome drabs: 'tis ten to one then
We shall hear further from ye, your note alter'd. [_Exeunt._

_Tho._ And wilt thou be gone, saies one?

_Hyl._ And wilt thou be gone, saies t'other?

_Tho._ Then take the odd crown
To mend thy old Gown.

_Sam._ And we'l be gone all together.

_Fra._ My learned _Tom_.

_Enter Servant._

_Ser._ Sir, the young Gentlewomen
Sent me to see what company ye had with ye,
They much desire to visit ye.

_Fra._ Pray ye thank 'em,
And tell 'em my most sickness is their absence:
Ye see my company.

_Tho._ Come hither Crab,
What Gentlewomen are these? my Mistris?

_Ser._ Yes Sir.

_Hyl._ And who else?

_Ser._ Mistress _Alice_.

_Hyl._ Oh!

_Tho._ Hark ye sirrah,
No word of my being here, unless she know it.

_Ser._ I do not think she does.

_Tho._ Take that, and mum then.

_Ser._ You have ty'd my tongue up. [_Exit._

_Tho._ Sit you down good _Francis_,
And not a word of me till ye hear from me,
And as you find my humour, follow it:
You two come hither, and stand close, unseen Boys,
And do as I shall tutor ye.

_Fran._ What, new work?

_Tho._ Prethee no more but help me now.

_Hyl._ I would fain talk
With the Gentlewomen.

_Tho._ Talk with the Gentlewomen?
Of what forsooth? whose Maiden-head the last Mask
Suffer'd impression? or whose Clyster wrought best?
Take me as I shall tell thee.

_Hyl._ To what end?
What other end came we along?

_Sam._ Be rul'd though.

_Tho._ Your weasel face must needs be ferretting
About the Farthing-ale;
Do as I bid ye,
Or by this light--

_Hyl._ Come then.

_Thom._ Stand close and mark me.

_Fran._ All this forc'd foolery will never do it.

_Enter_ Alice _and_ Mary.

_Ali._ I hope we bring ye health, Sir: how is't with ye?

_Ma._ You look far better trust me, the fresh colour
Creeps now again into his cheeks.

_Ali._ Your enemy
I see has done his worst. Come, we must have ye
Lusty again, and frolick man; leave thinking.

_Ma._ Indeed it does ye harm, Sir.

_Fran._ My best visitants,
I shall be govern'd by ye.

_Ali._ You shall be well then,
And suddenly, and soundly well.

_Ma._ This Air, Sir,
Having now season'd ye, will keep ye ever.

_Tho._ No, no, I have no hope, nor is it fit friends,
My life has been so lewd, my loose condition,
Which I repent too late, so lamentable,
That any thing but curses light upon me,
Exorbitant in all my wayes.

_Ali._ Who's that, Sir,
Another sick man?

_Ma._ Sure I know that voice well.

_Tho._ In all my courses, careless disobedience.

_Fran._ What a strange fellow's this?

_Tho._ No counsel friends,
No look before I leapt.

_Ali._ Do you know the voyce, Sir?

_Fra._ Yes, 'tis a Gentlemans that's much afflicted
In's mind: great pity Ladies.

_Ali._ Now heaven help him.

_Fra._ He came to me, to ask free pardon of me,
For some things done long since, which his distemper
Made to appear like wrong, but 'twas not so.

_Ma._ O that this could be truth.

_Hyl._ Perswade your self.

_Tho._ To what end Gentlemen, when all is perish'd
Upon a wrack, is there a hope remaining?
The Sea, that ne'r knew sorrow, may be pitiful,
My credit's split, and sunk, nor is it possible,
Were my life lengthened out as long as--

_Ma._ I like this well.

_Sam._ Your mind is too mistrustful.

_Tho._ I have a vertuous Sister, but I scorn'd her,
A Mistris too, a noble Gentlewoman,
For goodness all out-going.

_Alice._ Now I know him.

_Tho._ With these eyes friends, my eyes must never see more.

_Alice._ This is for your sake _Mary_: take heed Cousin,
A man is not so soon made.

_Tho._ O my fortune!
But it is just, I be despis'd and hated.

_Hyl._ Despair not, 'tis not manly: one hours goodness
Strikes off an infinite of ills.

_Alice._ Weep truly
And with compassion, Cousin.

_Fra._ How exactly
This cunning young Thief playes his part!

_Ma._ Well _Tom_,
My _Tom_ again, if this be truth.

_Hyl._ She weeps Boy.

_Tho._ O I shall die.

_Ma._ Now Heaven defend.

_Sam._ Thou hast her.

_Tho._ Come lead me to my Friend to take his farewel,
And then what fortune shall befal me, welcome,
How does it show?

_Hyl._ O rarely well.

_Ma._ Say you so, Sir.

_Fra._ O ye grand Ass.

_Ma._ And are ye there my Juggler?
Away we are abus'd, _Alice_.

_Alice._ Fool be with thee. [_Ex._ Mary _and_ Alice.

_Tho._ Where is she?

_Fra._ Gone; she found you out, and finely,
In your own noose she halter'd ye: you must be whispering
To know how things shew'd: not content to fare well
But you must roar out roast-meat; till that suspicion
You carried it most neatly, she believed too
And wept most tenderly; had you continu'd,
Without doubt you had brought her off.

_Tho._ This was thy Roguing,
For thou wert ever whispering: fye upon thee
Now could I break thy head.

_Hyl._ You spoke to me first.

_Tho._ Do not anger me,
For by this hand I'le beat the buzard blind then.
She shall not scape me thus: farewel for this time.

_Fra._ Good night, 'tis almost bed time: yet no sleep
Must enter these [eyes], till I work a wonder. [_Exit._

_Tho._ Thou shalt along too, for I mean to plague thee
For this nights sins, I will never leave walking of thee
Till I have worn thee out.

_Hyl._ Your will be done, Sir.

_Tho._ You will not leave me, _Sam_.

_Sam._ Not I.

_Tho._ Away then: I'le be your guide now, if my man be trusty,
My spightful Dame, I'le pipe ye such a hun[t]sup
Shall make ye dance a tipvaes: keep close to me. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ Sebastian, _and_ Dorothy.

_Seb._ Never perswade me, I will marry again,
What should I leave my state to, Pins and Poaking-sticks,
To Farthingals, and frownces? to fore-horses
And an old Leather Bawdy house behind 'em,
To thee?

_Dor._ You have a Son, Sir.

_Seb._ Where, what is he?
Who is he like?

_Dor._ Your self.

_Seb._ Thou lyest, thou hast marr'd him,
Thou, and thy prayer books: I do disclaim him:
Did not I take him singing yesternight
A godly Ballad, to a godly tune too,
And had a Catechism in's pocket, Damsel,
One of your dear disciples, I perceive it?
When did he ride abroad since he came over?
What Tavern has he us'd to? what things done
That shews a man, and mettle? when was my house
At such a shame before, to creep to bed
At ten a clock, and twelve, for want of company?
No singing, nor no dancing, nor no drinking?
Thou think'st not of these scandals; when, and where
Has he but shew'd his sword of late?

_Dor._ Despair not
I do beseech you, Sir, nor tempt your weakness,
For if you like it so, I can assure you
He is the same man still.

_Seb._ Would thou wert ashes
On that condition; but believe it Gossip
You shall know you have wrong'd.

_Dor._ You never, Sir,
So well I know my duty: and for Heaven sake,
Take but this counsel with ye ere you marry,
You were wont to hear me: take him, and confess him,
Search him to the quick, and if you find him false,
Do as you please; a Mothers name I honour.

_Seb._ He is lost, and spoil'd, I am resolv'd my roof
Shall never harbour him: and for you Minion
I'le keep you close enough, lest you break loose,
And do more mischief; get ye in: who waits? [_Exit_ Dor.

_Enter Servant._

_Ser._ Do you call, Sir?

_Seb._ Seek the Boy: and bid him wait
My pleasure in the morning: mark what house
He is in, and what he does: and truly tell me.

_Ser._ I will not fail, Sir.

_Seb._ If ye do, I'le hang ye. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_Enter_ Thomas, Hylas, _and_ Sam.

_Tho._ Keep you the back door there, and be sure
None of her servants enter, or go out,
If any Woman pass, she is lawful prize, Boys,
Cut off all convoyes.

_Hyl._ Who shall answer this?

_Tho._ Why, I shall answer it, you fearful widgeon,
I shall appear to th' action.

_Hyl._ May we discourse too,
On honourable terms?

_Tho._ With any Gentlewoman
That shall appear at window: ye may rehearse too
By your commission safely, some sweet parcels
Of Poetry to a Chamber-maid.

_Hyl._ May we sing too?
For there's my master-piece.

_Tho._ By no means, no Boys,
I am the man reserv'd for Air, 'tis my part,
And if she be not rock, my voyce shall reach her:
Ye may record a little, or ye may whistle,
As time shall minister, but for main singing,
Pray ye satisfie your selves: away, be careful.

_Hyl._ But hark ye, one word _Tom_, we may be beaten.

_Tho._ That's as ye think good your selves: if you deserve it,
Why 'tis the easiest thing to compass: beaten?
What Bugbears dwell in thy brains? who should beat thee?

_Hyl._ She has men enough.

_Tho._ Art not thou man enough too?
Thou hast flesh enough about thee: if all that mass
Will not maintain a little spirit, hang it,
And dry it too for dogs-meat: get you gone;
I have things of moment in my mind: that door,
Keep it as thou would'st keep thy Wife from a Servingman.
No more I say: away, _Sam_.

_Sam._ At your will, Sir. [_Exeunt_ Hylas _and_ Sam.

_Enter_ Launcelot, _and Fidler_.

_Lan._ I have him here, a rare Rogue, good sweet Master,
Do something of some savour suddenly,
That we may eat, and live: I am almost starv'd,
_No point manieur, no point devein, no Signieur_,
Not by the vertue of my languages,
Nothing at my old masters to be hoped for,
O Signieur _du_, nothing to line my life with,
But cold Pyes with a cudgel, till you help us.

_Tho._ Nothing but famine frights thee: come hither Fidler,
What Ballads are you seen in best? be short Sir.

_Fidler._ Under your masterships correction, I can sing
The Duke of _Norfolk_, or the merry Ballad
Of _Diverus_ and _Lazarus_, the Rose of _England_,
In _Creet_ when _Dedimus_ first began,
_Jonas_ his crying out against _Coventry_.

_Tho._ Excellent,
Rare matters all.

_Fid._ _Mawdlin_ the Merchants Daughter,
The Devil, and ye dainty Dames.

_Tom._ Rare still.

_Fid._ The landing of the Spaniards at _Bow_,
With the bloudy battel at _Mile-end_.

_Tho._ All excellent:
No tuning as ye love me; let thy Fidle
Speak Welch, or any thing that's out of all tune,
The vilder still the better, like thy self,
For I presume thy voice will make no trees dance.

_Fid._ Nay truly, ye shall have it ev'n as homely.

_Tho._ Keep ye to that key, are they all abed trow?

_Lan._ I hear no stirring any where, no light
In any window, 'tis a night for the nonce Sir.

_Tho._ Come strike up then: and say the Merchants daughter,
We'l bear the burthen: proceed to incision Fidler. [_Song._

_Enter Servant, above._

_Ser._ Who's there? what noise is this? what rogue
At these hours?

_Thom._ _O what is that to you my fool?_
_O what is that to you,_
_Pluck in your face you bawling Ass,_
_Or I will break your brow. hey down, down, down._
A new Ballad, a new, a new.

_Fid._ The twelfth of _April_, on _May_ day,
My house and goods were burnt away, _&c._ [_Maid above._

_Maid._ Why who is this?

_Lan._ O damsel dear,
Open the door, and it shall appear,
Open the door.

_Maid._ [O gentle squire.]
I'le see thee hang'd first: farewel my dear,
'Tis master _Thomas_, there he stands.

_Enter_ Mary _above_.

_Mary._ 'Tis strange
That nothing can redeem him: rail him hence,
Or sing him out in's own way, any thing
To be deliver'd of him.

_Maid._ Then have at him:
_My man_ Thomas _did me promise_
_He would visit me this night_.

_Tho._ _I am here Love, tell me dear Love,_
_How I may obtain thy sight._

_Maid._ _Come up to my window love, come, come, come,_
_Come to my window my dear,_
_The wind, nor the rain shall trouble thee again,_
_But thou shalt be lodged here._

_Thom._ And art thou strong enough?

_Lan._ Up, up, I warrant ye.

_Mary._ What do'st thou mean to do?

_Maid._ Good Mistress peace,
I'le warrant ye we'l cool him: _Madge_. [_Madge above._

_Madge._ I am ready.

_Tho._ _The love of Greece, and it tickled him so,_
_That he devised a way to goe._
Now sing the Duke of _Northumberland_.

_Fidler._ _And climbing to promotion,_
_He fell down suddenly._

[Madge _with a Devils vizard roaring, offers to kiss him, and he
falls down_.

_Maid._ Farewel Sir.

_Mary._ What hast thou done? thou hast broke his neck.

_Maid._ Not hurt him,
He pitcht upon his legs like a Cat.

_Tho._ O woman:
O miserable woman, I am spoil'd,
My leg, my leg, my leg, oh both my legs!

_Mary._ I told thee' what thou hadst done, mischief go with thee.

_Tho._ O I am lam'd for ever: O my leg,
Broken in twenty places: O take heed,
Take heed of women, Fidler: oh a Surgeon,
A Surgeon, or I dye: oh my good people,
No charitable people, all despightfull,
Oh what a misery am I in! oh my leg.

_Lan._ Be patient Sir, be patient: let me bind it.

_Enter_ Samuel, _and_ Hylas, _with his head broken_.

_Tho._ Oh do not touch it rogue.

_Hyl._ My head, my head,
Oh my head's kill'd.

_Sam._ You must be courting wenches
Through key-holes, Captain _Hylas_, come and be comforted,
The skin is scarce broke.

_Tho._ O my leg.

_Sam._ How do ye Sir?

_Tho._ Oh maim'd for ever with a fall, he's spoil'd too,
I see his brains.

_Hyl._ Away with me for Gods sake,
A Surgeon.

_Sam._ Here's a night indeed.

_Hyl._ A Surgeon. [_Ex. all but Fidler._

_Enter_ Mary, _and Servant below_.

_Mary._ Go run for help.

_Tho._ Oh.

_Mary._ Run all, and all too little,
O cursed beast that hurt him, run, run, flye,
He will be dead else.

_Tho._ Oh.

_Mary._ Good friend go you too.

_Fid._ Who pays me for my Musick?

_Mary._ Pox o' your Musick,
There's twelve pence for ye.

_Fid._ There's two groats again forsooth,
I never take above, and rest ye merry. [_Exit._

_Ma._ A grease pot guild your fidle strings: how do you,
How is my dear?

_Tom._ Why well I thank ye sweet heart,
Shall we walk in, for now there's none to trouble us?

_Ma._ Are ye so crafty, Sir? I shall meet with ye,
I knew your trick, and I was willing: my _Tom_,
Mine own _Tom_, now to satisfie thee, welcom, welcom,
Welcom my best friend to me, all my dearest.

_Tom._ Now ye are my noble Mistress: we lose time sweet.

_Ma._ I think they are all gone.

_Tom._ All, ye did wisely.

_Ma._ And you as craftily.

_Tom._ We are well met Mistress.

_Ma._ Come, let's goe in then lovingly: O my Skarf _Tom_.
I lost it thereabout, find it, and wear it
As your poor Mistress favour. [_Exit._

_Tom._ I am made now,
I see no venture is in no hand: I have it,
How now? the door lock't, and she in before?
Am I so trim'd?

_Ma._ One parting word sweet _Thomas_,
Though to save your credit, I discharg'd your Fidler,
I must not satisfie your folly too Sir,
Ye'are subtle, but believe it Fox, I'le find ye,
The Surgeons will be here straight, roar again boy,
And break thy legs for shame, thou wilt be sport else,
Good night.

_Tom._ She saies most true, I must not stay: she has bob'd me,
Which if I live, I'le recompence, and shortly,
Now for a Ballad to bring me off again.
_All young men be warn'd by me, how you do goe a wooing._
_Seek not to climb, for fear ye fall, thereby comes your undoing, &c._

[_Exeunt._

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

_Enter_ Valentine, Alice, _and Servant_.

_Val._ He cannot goe and take no farewel of me,
Can he be so unkind? he's but retir'd
Into the Garden or the Orchard: see Sirs.

_Ali._ He would not ride there certain, those were planted
Only for walks I take it.

_Val._ Ride? nay then,
Had he a horse out?

_Ser._ So the Groom delivers
Somewhat before the break of day.

_Val._ He's gone,
My best friend's gone _Alice_; I have lost the noblest,
The truest, and the most man I e're found yet.

_Alice._ Indeed Sir, he deserves all praise.

_Val._ All Sister,
All, all, and all too little: O that honesty,
That ermine honesty, unspotted ever,
That perfect goodness.

_Alice._ Sure he will return Sir,
He cannot be so harsh.

_Val._ O never, never,
Never return, thou know'st not where the cause lyes.

_Alice._ He was the worthiest welcom.

_Val._ He deserv'd it.

_Alice._ Nor wanted, to our knowledge.

_Val._ I will tell thee,
Within this hour, things that shall startle thee,
He never must return.

_Enter_ Michael.

_Mich._ Good morrow Signieur.

_Val._ Good morrow Master _Michael_.

_Mich._ My good neighbour,
Me thinks you are stirring early since your travel,
You have learn'd the rule of health sir, where's your mistress?
She keeps her warm I warrant ye, i' bed yet?

_Val._ I think she does.

_Alice._ 'Tis not her hour of waking.

_Mich._ Did you lye with her, Lady?

_Alice._ Not to night Sir,
Nor any night this week else.

_Mich._ When last saw ye her?

_Alice._ Late yesternight.

_Mich._ Was she 'bed then?

_Alice._ No Sir,
I left her at her prayers: why do ye ask me?

_Mich._ I have been strangely haunted with a dream
All this long night, and after many wakings,
The same dream still; me thought I met young _Cellide_
Just at S. _Katherines_ gate the Nunnery.

_Val._ Ha?

_Mic._ Her face slubber'd o're with tears, and troubles,
Me thought she cry'd unto the Lady Abbess,
For charity receive me holy woman,
A Maid that has forgot the worlds affections,
Into thy virgin order: me thought she took her,
Put on a Stole, and sacred robe upon her,
And there I left her.

_Val._ Dream?

_Mich._ Good Mistress _Alice_
Do me the favour (yet to satisfie me)
To step but up, and see.

_Alice._ I know she's there Sir,
And all this but a dream.

_Mich._ You know not my dreams,
They are unhappy ones, and often truths,
But this I hope, yet.

_Alice._ I will satisfie ye. [_Exit._

_Mich._ Neighbours, how does the Gentleman?

_Val._ I know not,
Dream of a Nunnery?

_Mich._ How found ye my words
About the nature of his sickness _Valentine_?

_Val._ Did she not cry out, 'twas my folly too
That forc'd her to this nunnery? did she not curse me?
For God sake speak: did you not dream of me too,
How basely, poorly, tamely, like a fool,
Tir'd with his joyes?

_Mich._ Alas poor Gentleman,
Ye promis'd me Sir to bear all these crosses.

_Val._ I bear 'em till I break again.

_Mich._ But nobly,
Truly to weigh.

_Val._ Good neighbours, no more of it,
Ye do but fling flax on my fire: where is she?

_Enter_ Alice.

_Ali._ Not yonder Sir, nor has not this night certain
Been in her bed.

_Mich._ It must be truth she tells ye,
And now I'le shew ye why I came: this morning
A man of mine being employed about business,
Came early home, who at S. _Katherines_ Nunnery,
About day peep, told me he met your Mistress,
And as I spoke it in a dream, so troubled
And so received by the Abbess, did he see her,
The wonder made me rise, and hast unto ye
To know the cause.

_Val._ Farewel, I cannot speak it. [_Exit_ Val.

_Alice._ For Heaven sake leave him not.

_Mich._ I will not Lady.

_Alice._ Alas, he's much afflicted.

_Mich._ We shall know shortly more, apply your own care
At home good _Alice_, and trust him to my counsel,
Nay, do not weep, all shall be well, despair not. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_Enter_ Sebastian, _and a Servant_.

_Seb._ At _Valentines_ house so merry?

_Ser._ As a pie Sir.

_Seb._ So gamesom dost thou say?

_Ser._ I am sure I heard it.

_Seb._ Ballads, and Fidles too?

_Ser._ No, but one Fidle;
But twenty noyses.

_Enter_ Launcelot.

_Seb._ Did he do devises?

_Ser._ The best devises Sir: here's my fellow _Launcelot_
He can inform ye all: he was among 'em,
A mad thing too: I stood but in a corner.

_Seb._ Come Sir, what can you say? is there any hope yet
Your Master may return?

_Laun._ He went far else,
I will assure your worship on my credit
By the faith of a Travellor, and a Gentleman,
Your son is found again, the son, the _Tom_.

_Seb._ Is he the old _Tom_?

_Laun._ The old _Tom_.

_Seb._ Go forward.

_Laun._ Next, to consider how he is the old _Tom_.

_Seb._ Handle me that.

_Laun._ I would ye had seen it handled
Last night Sir, as we handled it: _cap à pe_,
Footra for leers, and learings; O the noise,
The noise we made.

_Seb._ Good, good.

_Lan._ The windows clattering
And all the Chambermaids in such a whobub,
One with her smock half off, another in hast
With a serving-mans hose upon her head.

_Seb._ Good still.

_Lan._ A fellow railing out of a loop-hole there,
And his mouth stopt with durt.

_Seb._ I' faith a fine Boy.

_Lan._ Here one of our heads broke.

_Seb._ Excellent good still.

_Lan._ The Gentleman himself, young M. _Thomas_,
Inviron'd with his furious Myrmidons
The fiery Fidler, and my self; now singing,
Now beating at the door, there parlying,
Courting at that window, at the other scalling
And all these several noises to two Trenchers,
Strung with a bottom of brown thred, which show'd admirable.

_Seb._ There eat, and grow again, I am pleas'd.

_Lan._ Nor here Sir,
Gave we the frolick over: though at length
We quit the Ladies Skonce on composition;
But to the silent streets we turn'd our furies:
A sleeping watchman here we stole the shooes from,
There made a noise, at which he wakes, and follows:
The streets are durty, takes a queen-hith cold,
Hard cheese, and that choaks him o' Munday next:
Windows, and signs we sent to _Erebus_;
A crue of bawling curs we entertain'd last,
When having let the pigs loose in out parishes,
O the brave cry we made as high as _Algate_!
Down comes a Constable, and the Sow his Sister
Most traiterously tramples upon Authority,
There a whole stand of rug gowns rowted manly
And the Kings peace put to flight: a purblind pig here
Runs me his head into the Admirable Lanthorn,
Out goes the light, and all turns to confusion:
A potter rises, to enquire this passion,
A Boar imbost takes sanctuary in his shop,
When twenty dogs rush after, we still cheering,
Down goe the pots, and pipkins, down the pudding pans,
The cream-bolls cry revenge here, there the candlesticks.

_Seb._ If this be true, thou little tyney page,
This tale that thou tell'st me,
Then on thy back will I presently hang
A handsom new Livery:
But if this be false, thou little tyney page
As false it well may be,
Then with a cudgel of four foot long
I'le beat thee from head to toe.

_Enter_ Servant.

_Seb._ Will the boy come?

_Ser._ He will Sir.

_Enter_ Thomas.

_Seb._ Time tries all then.

_Lan._ Here he comes now himself Sir.

_Seb._ To be short _Thomas_,
Because I feel a scruple in my conscience
Concerning thy demeanour, and a main one,
And therefore like a Father would be satisfi'd,
Get up to that window there, and presently
Like a most compleat Gentleman, come from _Tripoly_.

_Tom._ Good Lord Sir, how are you misled: what fancies
(Fitter for idle boys, and drunkards, let me speak't,
And with a little wonder I beseech [y]ou)
Choak up your noble judgement?

_Seb._ You Rogue _Launcelot_,
You lying Rascal.

_Lan._ Will ye spoil all again Sir.
Why, what a Devil do you mean?

_Tom._ Away knave,
Ye keep a company of sawcy fellows,
Debosh'd, and daily drunkards, to devour ye,
Things, whose dull souls, tend to the Celler only,
Ye are ill advis'd Sir, to commit your credit.

_Seb._ Sirrah, Sirrah.

_Lan._ Let me never eat again Sir,
Nor feel the blessing of another blew-coat,
If this young Gentleman, sweet Master _Thomas_,
Be not as mad as heart can wish: your heart Sir,
If yesternights discourse: speak fellow _Robin_,
And if thou speakest less than truth.

_Tom._ 'Tis strange these varlets.

_Ser._ By these ten bones Sir, if these eyes, and ears
Can hear and see.

_Tom._ Extream strange, should thus boldly
Bud in your sight, unto your son.

_Lan._ _O deu guin_
Can ye deny, ye beat a Constable
Last night?

_Tom._ I touch Authoritie, ye Rascal?
I violate the Law?

_Lan._ Good Master _Thomas_.

_Ser._ Did you not take two wenches from the watch too
And put 'em into pudding lane?

_Lan._ We mean not
Those civil things you did at M. _Valentines_,
The Fiddle, and the fa'las.

_Tom._ O strange impudence!
I do beseech you Sir give no such licence
To knaves and drunkards, to abuse your son thus:
Be wise in time, and turn 'em off: we live Sir
In a State govern'd civilly, and soberly,
Where each mans actions should confirm the Law,
Not crack, and cancel it.

_Seb._ _Lancelot du Lake_,
Get you upon adventures: cast your coat
And make your exit.

_Lan._ _Pur lamour de dieu._

_Seb._ _Pur me no purs_: but _pur_ at that door, out Sirrah,
I'le beat ye purblind else, out ye eight languages.

_Lan._ My bloud upon your head. [_Exit_ Lan.

_Tom._ Purge me 'em all Sir.

_Seb._ And you too presently.

_Tom._ Even as you please Sir.

_Seb._ Bid my maid servant come, and bring my Daughter,
I will have one shall please me. [_Exit servant._

_Tom._ 'Tis most fit Sir.

_Seb._ Bring me the mony there: here M. _Thomas_.

_Enter two Servants with two bags._

I pray sit down, ye are no more my son now,
Good Gentleman be cover'd.

_Tom._ At your pleasure.

_Seb._ This mony I do give ye, because of whilom
You have been thought my son, and by my self too,
And some things done like me: ye are now another:
There is two hundred pound, a civil summe
For a young civil man: much land and Lordship
Will as I take it now, but prove temptation
To dread ye from your setled, and sweet carriage.

_Tom._ You say right Sir.

_Seb._ Nay I beseech ye cover.

_Tom._ At your dispose: and I beseech ye too Sir,
For the word civil, and more setled course
It may but put to use, that on the interest
Like a poor Gentleman.

_Seb._ It shall, to my use,
To mine again: do you see Sir: good fine Gentleman,
I give no brooding mony for a Scrivener,
Mine is for present traffick, and so I'le use it.

_Tom._ So much for that then.

_Enter_ Dorothy, _and four Maids_.

_Seb._ For the main cause Monsieur,
I sent to treat with you about, behold it;
Behold that piece of story work, and view it.
I want a right heir to inherit me,
Not my estate alone, but my conditions,
From which you are revolted, therefore dead,
And I will break my back, but I will get one.

_Tom._ Will you choose there Sir?

_Seb._ There, among those Damsels,
In mine own tribe: I know their qualities
Which cannot fail to please me: for their beauties
A matter of a three farthings, makes all perfect,
A little beer, and beef broth: they are sound too.
Stand all a breast: now gentle M. _Thomas_
Before I choose, you having liv'd long with me,
And happily sometimes with some of these too,
Which fault I never frown'd upon; pray shew me
(For fear we confound our Genealogies)
Which have you laid aboord? speak your mind freely,
Have you had copulation with that Damsel?

_Tom._ I have.

_Seb._ Stand you aside then: how with her Sir?

_Tom._ How, is not seemly here to say.

_Dor._ Here's fine sport.

_Seb._ Retire you too: speak forward M. _Thomas_.

_Tom._ I will: and to the purpose; even with all Sir.

_Seb._ With all? that's somewhat large.

_Dor._ And yet you like it.
Was ever sin so glorious?

_Seb._ With all _Thomas_?

_Tom._ All surely Sir.

_Seb._ A sign thou art mine own yet,
In again all: and to your several functions. [_Ex. Maids._
What say you to young _Luce_, my neighbours Daughter,
She was too young I take it, when you travel'd;
Some twelve years old?

_Tom._ Her will was fifteen Sir.

_Seb._ A pretty answer, to cut off long discourse,
For I have many yet to ask ye of,
Where I can choose, and nobly, hold up your finger
When ye are right: what say ye to _Valeria_
Whose husband lies a dying now? why two,
And in that form?

_Tom._ Her husband is recover'd.

_Seb._ A witty moral: have at ye once more _Thomas_,
The Sisters of St. _Albons_, all five; dat boy,
Dat's mine own boy.

_Dor._ Now out upon thee Monster.

_Tom._ Still hoping of your pardon.

_Seb._ There needs none man:
A straw on pardon: prethee need no pardon:
I'le aske no more, nor think no more of marriage,
For o' my conscience I shall be thy Cuckold:
There's some good yet left in him: bear your self well,
You may recover me, there's twenty pound Sir,
I see some sparkles which may flame again,
You may eat with me when you please, you know me. [_Exit_ Seb.

_Dor._ Why do you lye so damnably, so foolishly?

_Tom._ Do'st thou long to have thy head broke? hold thy peace
And do as I would have thee, or by this hand
I'le kill thy Parrat, hang up thy small hand,
And drink away thy dowry to a penny.

_Dor._ Was ever such a wilde Asse?

_Tom._ Prethee be quiet.

_Dor._ And do'st thou think men will not beat thee monstrously
For abusing their wives and children?

_Tom._ And do'st thou think
Mens wives and children can be abus'd too much?

_Dor._ I wonder at thee.

_Tom._ Nay, thou shalt adjure me
Before I have done.

_Dor._ How stand ye with your mistress?

_Tom._ I shall stand nearer
E're I be twelve hours older: there's my business,
She is monstrous subtile _Dol_.

_Dol._ The Devil I think
Cannot out-subtile thee.

_Tom._ If he play fair play,
Come, you must help me presently.

_Dor._ I discard ye.

_Tom._ Thou shalt not sleep nor eat.

_Dor._ I'le no hand with ye,
No bawd to your abuses.

_Tom._ By this light _Dol_,
Nothing but in the way of honesty.

_Dor._ Thou never knew'st that road: I hear your vigils.

_Tom._ Sweet honey _Dol_, if I do not marry her,
Honestly marry her, if I mean not honourably,
Come, thou shalt help me, take heed how you vex me,
I'le help thee to a husband too, a fine Gentleman,
I know thou art mad, a tall young man, a brown man,
I swear he has his maidenhead, a rich man.

_Dor._ You may come in to dinner, and I'le answer ye.

_Tom._ Nay I'le go with thee _Dol_: four hundred a year wench.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE III.

_Enter_ Michael, _and_ Valentine.

_Mich._ Good Sir go back again, and take my counsel,
Sores are not cur'd by sorrows, nor time broke from us,
Pull'd back again by sighs.

_Val._ What should I do friend?

_Mich._ Do that that may redeem ye, go back quickly,
_Sebastians_ Daughter can prevail much with her,
The Abbess is her Aunt too.

_Val._ But my friend then
Whose love and loss is equal ty'd.

_Mich._ Content ye,
That shall be my task if he be alive,
Or where my travel and my care may reach him,
I'le bring him back again.

_Val._ Say he come back
To piece his poor friends life out? and my Mistress
Be vow'd for ever a recluse?

_Mich._ So suddenly
She cannot, hast ye therefore instantly away Sir,
To put that Daughter by; first as to a Father,
Then as a friend she was committed to ye,
And all the care she now has: by which priviledge
She cannot do her this violence,
But you may break it, and the law allows ye.

_Val._ O but I forc'd her to it.

_Mich._ Leave disputing
Against your self, if you will needs be miserable
Spight of her goodness, and your friends perswasions.
Think on, and thrive thereafter.

_Val._ I will home then.
And follow your advice, and good, good _Michael_.

_Mich._ No more, I know your soul's divided, _Valentine_,
Cure but that part at home with speedy marriage
E're my return, for then those thoughts that vext her,
While there ran any stream for loose affections,
Will be stopt up, and chaste ey'd honour guide her.
Away, and hope the best still: I'le work for ye,
And pray too heartily, away, no more words. [_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.

_Enter_ Hylas, _and_ Samuel.

_Hyl._ I care not for my broken head,
But that it should be his plot, and a wench too,
A lowzie, lazie wench prepar'd to do it.

_Sam._ Thou hadst as good be quiet, for o' my conscience
He'l put another on thee else.

_Hyl._ I am resolv'd
To call him to account, was it not manifest
He meant a mischief to me, and laughed at me,
When he lay roaring out, his leg was broken,
And no such matter? had he broke his neck,
Indeed 'twould ne'r have griev'd me; gallows gall him.
Why should he chuse out me?

_Sam._ Thou art ever ready
To thrust thy self into these she occasions,
And he as full of knavery to accept it.

_Hyl._ Well, if I live I'll have a new trick for him.

_Sam._ That will not be amiss, but to fight with him
Is to no purpose; besides, he's truly valiant,
And a most deadly hand; thou never fought'st yet,
Nor o' my Conscience hast no faith in fighting.

_Hyl._ No, no, I will not fight.

_Sam._ Besides the quarrel,
Which has a woman in't to make it scurvy,
Who would lye stinking in a Surgeons hands,
A month or two this weather? for believe it,
He never hurts under a quarters healing.

_Hyl._ No, upon better thought, I will not fight, _Sam_,
But watch my time.

_Sam._ To pay him with a project;
Watch him too, I would wish ye; prithee tell me,
Dost thou affect these women still?

_Hyl._ Yes, 'faith, _Sam_,
I love 'em ev'n as well as e'r I did,
Nay, if my brains were beaten out, I must to 'em.

_Sam._ Dost thou love any woman?

_Hyl._ Any woman
Of what degree or calling.

_Sam._ Of any age too?

_Hyl._ Of any age, from fourscore to fourteen, Boy,
Of any fashion.

_Sam._ And defect too?

_Hyl._ Right,
For those I love to lead me to repentance;
A woman with no Nose, after my surquedry,
Shews like King _Philip_'s Moral, _Memento mori_;
And she that has a wooden leg, demonstrates
Like _Hypocrites_, we halt before the gallows;
An old one with one tooth, seems to say to us,
Sweets meats have sowr sauce; she that's full of aches,
Crum not your Bread before you taste your Porridge,
And many morals we may find.

_Sam._ 'Tis well, Sir,
Ye make so worthy uses; but _quid igitur_,
What shall we now determine?

_Hyl._ Let's consider
An hour or two how I may fit this fellow.

_Sam._ Let's find him first, he'll quickly give occasion,
But take heed to your self, and say I warn'd ye;
He has a plaguey pate.

_Hyl._ That at my danger. [_Exeunt._
[_Musick._

SCENE V.

_Enter Saylers singing, to them_ Michael, _and_ Francis.

_Sayl._ Aboard, aboard, the wind stands fair.

_Mich._ These call for Passengers, I'll stay and see
What men they take aboard.

_Fran._ A Boat, a Boat, a Boat.

_Sayl._ Away then.

_Fran._ Whither are ye bound, Friends?

_Sayl._ Down to the Straits.

_Mich._ Ha! 'tis not much unlike him.

_Fran._ May I have passage for my money?

_Sayl._ And welcome too.

_Mich._ 'Tis he, I know 'tis he now.

_Fran._ Then merrily aboard, and noble friend,
Heavens goodness keep thee ever, and all vertue
Dwell in thy bosome, _Cellide_, my last tears
I leave behind me thus, a sacrifice,
For I dare stay no longer to betray ye.

_Mich._ Be not so quick, Sir; Saylers I here charge ye
By virtue of this Warrant, as you will answer it,
For both your Ship and Merchant I know perfectly,
Lay hold upon this fellow.

_Fran._ Fellow?

_Mich._ I, Sir.

_Sayl._ No hand to Sword, Sir, we shall master ye,
Fetch out the manacles.

_Fran._ I do obey ye;
But I beseech you, Sir, inform me truly
How I am guilty.

_Mich._ You have rob'd a Gentleman,
One that you are bound to for your life and being;
Money and horse unjustly ye took from him,
And something of more note, but--for y'are a Gentleman.

_Fra._ It shall be so, and here I'll end all miseries,
Since friendship is so cruel, I confess it,
And which is more, a hundred of these robberies:
This Ring I stole too from him, and this Jewel,
The first and last of all my wealth; forgive me
My innocence and truth, for saying I stole 'em,
And may they prove of value but to recompence
The thousandth part of his love, and bread I have eaten;
'Pray see 'em render'd noble Sir, and so
I yield me to your power.

_Mich._ Guard him to th' water,
I charge you, Saylers, there I will receive him,
And back convey him to a Justice.

_Sayl._ Come, Sir,
Look to your neck, you are like to sail i'th' air now.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

_Enter_ Thomas, Dorothy, _and Maid_.

_Thom._ Come quickly, quickly, paint me handsomely,
Take heed my nose be not in grain too;
Come _Doll, Doll_, disen me.

_Dor._ If you should play now
Your Devils parts again.

_Thom._ Yea and nay, _Dorothy_.

_Dor._ If ye do any thing, but that ye have sworn to,
Which only is access.

_Thom._ As I am a Gentleman;
Out with this hair, _Doll_, handsomely.

_Dor._ You have your Breeches?

_Thom._ I prithee away, thou know'st I am monstrous ticklish,
What, dost thou think I love to blast my Buttocks?

_Dor._ I'll plague ye for this Roguery; for I know well
What ye intend, Sir.

_Thom._ On with my muffler.

_Dor._ Ye are a sweet Lady; come, let's see you courtesie;
What, broke i'th bum? hold up your head.

_Thom._ Plague on't,
I shall bepiss my Breeches if I cowr thus,
Come, I am ready.

_Maid._ At all points as like, Sir,
As if you were my Mistress.

_Dor._ Who goes with ye?

_Thom._ None but my fortune, and my self. [_Exit_ Tho.

_Dor._ 'Bless ye:
Now run for thy life, and get before him,
Take the by-way, and tell my Cousin _Mary_
In what shape he intends to come to cozen her;
I'll follow at thy heels my self, fly Wench.

_Maid._ I'll do it. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Sebastian, _and_ Thomas.

_Dor._ My Father has met him; this goes excellent,
And I'll away in time; look to your Skin, _Thomas_. [_Exit._

_Seb._ What, are you grown so corn fed, Goody _Gillian_,
You will not know your Father? what vagaries
Have you in hand? what out-leaps, durty heels,
That at these hours of night ye must be gadding,
And through the Orchard take your private passage?
What, is the breeze in your Breech? or has your Brother
Appointed you an hour of meditation
How to demean himself; get ye to bed, drab,
Or I'll so crab your Shoulders; ye demure Slut,
Ye civil dish of sliced Beef, get ye in.

_Thom._ I wi' not, that I wi' not.

_Seb._ Is't ev'n so, Dame?
Have at ye with a night Spell then.

_Thom._ 'Pray hold, Sir.

_Seb._ St. _George_, St. _George_, our Ladies Knight,
He walks by day, so does he by night,
And when he had her found,
He her beat, and her bound,
Until to him her troth she plight,
She would not stir from him that night.

_Thom._ Then have at ye with a Counter Spell,
From Elves, Hobs, and Fayries, that trouble our Dayries,
From Fire-Drakes and Fiends, and such as the Devil sends,
Defend us good Heaven. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Launcelot.

_Laun._ Bless me master; look up, Sir, I beseech ye,
Up with your eyes to heaven.

_Seb._ Up with your nose, Sir,
I do not bleed, 'twas a sound knock she gave me,
A plaguey mankind Girl, how my [brain] totters?
Well, go thy ways, thou hast got one thousand pound more
With this dog trick,
Mine own true spirit in her too.

_Laun._ In her? alas Sir,
Alas poor Gentlewom[a]n, she a hand so heavy,
To knock ye like a Calf down, or so brave a courage
To beat her father? if you could believe, Sir.

_Seb._ Who would'st thou make me believe it was, the Devil?

_Laun._ One that spits fire as fast as he sometimes, Sir,
And changes shapes as often; your Son _Thomas_;
Never wonder, if it be not he, straight hang me.

_Seb._ He? if it be so,
I'll put thee in my Will, and there's an end on't.

_Laun._ I saw his legs, h'as Boots on like a Player,
Under his wenches cloaths, 'tis he, 'tis _Thomas_
In his own Sisters Cloaths, Sir, and I can wast him.

_Seb._ No more words then, we'll watch him, thou'lt not believe
_Launce_,
How heartily glad I am.

_Laun._ May ye be gladder,
But not this way, Sir.

_Seb._ No more words, but watch him. [_Exeunt._

SCENE VII.

_Enter_ Mary, Dorothy, _and Maid_.

_Mary._ When comes he?

_Dor._ Presently.

_Mary._ Then get you up, _Doll_,
Away, I'll straight come to you: is all ready?

_Maid._ All.

_Mary._ Let the light stand far enough.

_Maid._ 'Tis placed so.

_Mary._ Stay you to entertain him to his chamber,
But keep close, Wench, he flyes at all.

_Maid._ I warrant ye.

_Mary._ You need no more instruction?

_Maid._ I am perfect. [_Exeunt._

SCENE VIII.

_Enter_ Valentine, _and_ Thomas.

_Tho._ More stops yet? sure the fiend's my ghostly father,
Old Valentine; what wind's in his poop?

_Val._ Lady,
You are met most happily; O gentle _Doll_,
You must now do me an especial favour.

_Tho._ What is it master _Valentine_? I am sorely troubled
With a salt rheum faln i' my gums.

_Val._ I'll tell ye,
And let it move you equally; my blest Mistress,
Upon a slight occasion taking anger,
Took also (to undo me) your Aunts Nunnery,
From whence by my perswasion to redeem her,
Will be impossible: nor have I liberty
To come and visit her; my good, good _Dorothy_,
You are most powerful with her, and your Aunt too,
And have access at all hours liberally,
Speak now or never for me.

_Thom._ In a Nunnery?
That course must not be suffered, Master _Valentine_,
Her Mother never knew it; rare sport for me;
Sport upon sport, by th' break of day I'll meet ye,
And fear not, Man, we'll have her out I warrant ye,
I cannot stay now.

_Val._ You will not break?

_Thom._ By no means.
Good night.

_Val._ Good night kind Mistress _Doll_. [_Exit._