_Ter._ So saies the Harbengers,
And keeps his way on to _Valentia_,
There ends the progress.
_Ped._ He hunts this morning Gentlemen,
And dines i'th' fields: the Court is all in readiness.
_Lis. Pedro_, did you send for this Tailor? or you _Moncado_?
This light _French_ Demi-launce that follows us.
_Ped._ No, I assure ye on my word, I am guiltless,
I owe him too much to be inward with him.
_Mon._ I am not quit I am sure: there is a reckoning
Of some four scarlet cloaks, and two lac'd suits
Hangs on the file still, like a fearful Comet
Makes me keep off.
_Lis._ I am in too Gentlemen,
I thank his faith, for a matter of three hundred.
_Ter._ And I for two, what a devil makes he this way?
I do not love to see my sins before me.
_Ped._ 'Tis the vacation, and these things break out
To see the Court, and glory in their debtors.
_Ter._ What do you call him for? I never love
To remember their names that I owe money to,
'Tis not gentile; I shun 'em like the plague ever.
_Lis._ His name's _Vertigo_: hold your heads, and wonder,
A French-man, and a founder of new Fashions:
The revolutions of all shapes and habits
Run madding through his brains. [_Enter_ Vertigo.
_Mon._ He is very brave.
_Lis._ The shreds of what he steals from us, believe it,
Makes him a mighty man: he comes, have at ye.
_Ver._ Save ye together, my sweet Gentlemen,
I have been looking--
_Ter._ Not for Money, Sir?
You know the hard time.
_Ver._ Pardon me sweet (_Signior_)
Good faith the least thought in my heart, your love Gentlemen,
Your love's enough for me: Money? hang money:
Let me preserve your love.
_Lis._ Yes marry shall ye,
And we our credit, you would see the Court?
_Mon._ He shall see every place.
_Ver._ Shall I i'faith Gentlemen?
_Ped._ The Cellar, and the Buttry, and the Kitchin,
The Pastry, and the Pantry.
_Ter._ I, and taste too
Of every Office: and be free of all too:
That he may say when he comes home in glory.
_Ver._ And I will say, i'faith, and say it openly,
And say it home too: Shall I see the King also?
_Lis._ Shalt see him every day: shalt see the Ladies
In their _French_ clothes: shalt ride a hunting with him,
Shalt have a Mistriss too: we must fool handsomely
To keep him in belief, we honor him,
He may call on us else.
_Ped._ A pox upon him.
Let him call at home in's own house for salt butter.
_Ver._ And when the King puts on a new suit.
_Ter._ Thou shalt see it first,
And desect his doublets: that thou maist be perfect.
_Ver._ The Wardrobe I would fain view, Gentlemen,
Fain come to see the Wardrobe.
_Lis._ Thou shalt see it,
And see the secret of it, dive into it:
Sleep in the Wardrobe, and have Revelations
Of fashions five years hence.
_Ver._ Ye honor me.
Ye infinitely honor me.
_Ter._ Any thing i' th' Court, Sir,
Or within the compass of a Courtier.
_Ver._ My wife shall give ye thanks.
_Ter._ You shall see any thing.
The privat[st] place, the stool, and where 'tis emptied.
_Ver._ Ye make me blush, ye pour your bounties, Gentlemen,
In such abundance.
_Lis._ I will shew thee presently
The order that the King keeps when he comes
To open view, that thou may'st tell thy neighbors
Over a shoulder of mutton, thou hast seen something,
Nay, thou shalt present the King for this time.
_Ver._ Nay, I pray Sir.
_Lis._ That thou maist know what State there does belong to it;
Stand there I say, and put on a sad countenance,
Mingled with height: be cover'd, and reserved;
Move like the Sun, by soft degrees, and glorious,
Into your order (Gentlemen) uncover'd,
The King appears; We'll sport with you a while, Sir,
I am sure you are merry with us all the year long (Tailor)
Move softer still, keep in that fencing leg; _Monsieur_,
Turn to no side.
_Enter_ Franio _out of breath_.
_Ter._ What's this that appears to him?
_Lis._ 'Has a petition, and he looks most lamentably,
Mistake him, and we are made.
_Fra._ This is the King sure,
The glorious King, I know him by his gay clothes.
_Lis._ Now bear your self that you may say hereafter.
_Fra._ I have recover'd breath, I'll speak unto him presently,
May it please your gracious Majesty to consider
A poor mans case?
_Ver._ What's your Will, Sir?
_Lis._ You must accept, and read it.
_Ter._ The Tailor will run mad upon my life for't.
_Ped._ How he mumps and bridles: he will ne'r cut clothes again.
_Ver._ And what's your grief?
_Mon._ He speaks i' th' nose like his goose.
_Fra._ I pray you read there; I am abus'd and frumpt, Sir,
By a great man that may do ill by authority;
Poor honest men are hang'd for doing less, Sir,
My child is stolen, the Count _Otrante_ stole her;
A pretty child she is, although I say it,
A handsome Mother, he means to make a whore of her,
A silken whore, his knaves have filch'd her from me;
He keeps lewd knaves, that do him beastly offices:
I kneel for Justice. Shall I have it Sir?
_Enter King_ Philippo, _and Lords_.
_Phil._ What Pageant's this?
_Lis._ The King:
Tailor, stand off, here ends your aparition:
Miller, turn round, and there address your paper,
There, there's the King indeed.
_Fra._ May it please your Majesty.
_Phil._ Why didst thou kneel to that fellow?
_Fra._ In good faith, Sir,
I thought he had been a King, he was so gallant:
There's none here wears such gold.
_Phil._ So foolishly,
You have golden business sure; because I am homely
Clad, in no glitt'ring suit, I am not look'd on:
Ye fools that wear gay cloaths, love to [be] gap'd at,
What are you better when your end calls on you?
Will gold preserve ye from the grave? or jewels?
Get golden Minds, and fling away your Trappings
Unto your bodies, minister warm raiments,
Wholsome and good; glitter within and spare not:
Let my [C]ourt have rich souls, their suits I weigh not:
And what are you that took such State upon ye?
Are ye a Prince?
_Lis._ The Prince of Tailors, Sir,
We owe some money to him, and't like your Majesty.
_Phil._ If it like him, would ye ow'd more, be modester,
And you less saucy, Sir: and leave this place:
Your Pressing-iron will make no perfect Courtier:
Goe stitch at home, and cozen your poor neighbors,
Show such another pride, I'll have ye whipt for't,
And get worse clothes, these but proclaim your fellony.
And what's your Paper?
_Fra._ I beseech you read it.
_Phil._ What's here? the Count _Otrante_ task'd for a base villany,
For stealing of a maid?
_Lord._ The Count _Otrante_?
Is not the fellow mad, Sir?
_Fra._ No, no, my Lord,
I am in my wits, I am a labouring man,
And we have seldome leisure to run mad,
We have other business to employ our heads in,
We have little Wit to lose too: if we complain,
And if a heavie lo[r]d lie on [our] shoulders,
Worse than a sack of Meal, and oppress our poverties,
We are mad streight, and whop'd, and ty'd in fetters,
Able to make a horse mad, as you use us,
You are mad for nothing, and no man dare proclaim it,
In you a wildness is a noble trick,
And cherish'd in ye, and all men must love it:
Oppressions of all sorts, sit like new clothes,
Neatly and handsomely upon your Lordships:
And if we kick when your honors spur us,
We are Knaves and Jades, and ready for the Justice.
I am a true Miller.
_Phil._ Then thou art a wonder.
_2 Lor._ I know [the] man reputed for a good man
An honest and substantial fellow.
_Phil._ He speaks sence,
And to the point: Greatness begets much rudeness,
How dare you (Sirrah) 'gainst so main a person,
A man of so much Noble note and honor,
Put up this base complaint? Must every Peasant
Upon a saucy Will affront great Lords!
All fellows (Miller?)
_Fra._ I have my reward, Sir,
I was told one greatness would protect another,
As beams support their fellows; now I find it:
If't please your Grace to have me hang'd, I am ready,
'Tis but a Miller, and a Thief dispa[t]ch'd:
Though I steal bread, I steal no flesh to tempt me.
I have a wife, and 't please him to have her too,
With all my heart; 'twill make my charge the less, Sir,
She'll hold him play awhile: I have a boy too,
He's able to instruct his Honors hogs,
Or rub his horse-heels: when it please his Lordship
He may [make] him his slave too, or his bawd:
The boy is well bred, can exhort his Sister:
For me, the Prison, or the Pillory,
To lose my [goods], and have mine ears cropt off;
Whipt like a Top, and have a paper stuck before me,
For abominable honesty to his own Daughter,
I can endure, Sir: the Miller has a stout heart,
[T]ough as his Toal-pin.
_Phil._ I suspect this shrewdly,
Is it his Daughter that the people call
The Millers fair Maid?
_2 Lor._ It should seem so, Sir.
_Phil._ Be sure you be i' th' right, Sirrah.
_Fra._ If I be i' th' wrong, Sir,
Be sure you hang me, I will ask no courtesie:
Your Grace may have a Daughter, think of that, Sir,
She may be fair, and she may be abused too:
A King is not exempted from these cases:
Stolen from your loving care.
_Phil._ I do much pity him.
_Fra._ But heaven forbid she should be in that venture
That mine is in at this hour: I'll assure your Grace
The Lord wants a water-Mill, and means to grind with her
Would I had his stones to set, I would fit him for it.
_Phil._ Follow me, Miller, and let me talk with ye farther,
And keep this private all upon your Loyalties:
To morrow morning, though I am now beyond him,
And the less lookt for, I'll break my Fast with the good Count.
No more, away, all to our sports, be silent. [_Exeunt._
_Ver._ What Grace shall I have now?
_Lis._ Choose thine own Grace,
And go to dinner when thou wilt, _Vertigo_,
We must needs follow the King.
_Ter._ You heard the sentence.
_Mon._ If you stay here
I'll send thee a shoulder of Venison:
Go home, go home, or if thou wilt disguise,
I'll help thee to a place to feed the dogs.
_Ped._ Or thou shalt be special Tailor to the Kings Monkey,
'Tis a fine place, we cannot stay.
_Ver._ No Money,
Nor no Grace, Gentlemen?
_Ter._ 'Tis too early Tailor.
The King has not broke his Fast yet.
_Ver._ I shall look for ye
The next Term, Gentlemen.
_Ped._ Thou shalt not miss us:
Prethee provide some clothes, and dost thou hear _Vertigo_
Commend me to thy Wife: I want some shirts too.
_Ver._ I have Chambers for ye all.
_Lis._ They are too musty,
When they are clear we'll come.
_Ver._ I must be patient
And provident, I shall never get home else. [_Exeunt._
_Scæna Secunda._
_Enter_ Otrante _and_ Florimell.
_Otr._ Prethee be wiser wench, thou canst not scape me,
Let me with love and gentleness injoy that
That may be still preserv'd with love, and long'd for:
If violence lay rough hold, I shall hate thee,
And after I have enjoy'd thy Maiden-head,
Thou wilt appear so stale and ugly to me
I shall despise thee, cast thee off.
_Flo._ I pray ye Sir,
Begin it now, and open your doors to me,
I do confess I am ugly; let me go, Sir:
A Gipsey-girl: Why would your Lordship touch me?
Fye, 'tis not noble: I am homely bred,
Course, and unfit for you: why do you flatter me?
There be young Ladies, many that will love ye,
That will dote on ye: you [are] a handsome Gentleman,
What will they say when once they know your quality?
A Lord, a Miller? take your Toal dish with ye:
You that can deal with Gudgins, and course flower,
'Tis pitty you should tast what manchet means:
Is this fit Sir, for your repute and honor?
_Otr._ I'll love thee still.
_Flo._ You cannot, there's no sympathy
Between our births, [our] breeding, arts, conditions,
And where these are at difference, ther's no liking:
This hour it may be I seem handsome to you,
And you are taken with variety
More than with beauty: to morrow when you have enjoy'd me,
Your heat and lust asswag'd, and come to examine
Out of a cold and penitent condition
What you have done, whom you have shar'd your love with,
Made partner of your bed, how it will vex ye,
How you will curse the devil that betrayd ye,
And what shall become of me then?
_Otr._ Wilt thou hear me?
_Flo._ As hasty as you were then to enjoy me,
As precious as this beauty shew'd unto ye,
You'll kick me out of dores, you will whore and ban me:
And if I prove with child with your fair issue,
Give me a pension of five pound a year
To breed your Heir withall, and so good speed me.
_Otr._ I'll keep thee like a woman.
_Flo._ I'll keep my self Sir,
Keep my self honest Sir; there's the brave keeping:
If you will marry me.
_Otr._ Alass poor _Florimell_.
_Flo._ I do confess I am too course and base Sir
To be your wife, and it is fit you scorn me,
Yet such as I have crown'd the lives of great ones:
To be your whore I am sure I am too worthy,
(For by my troth Sir, I am truly honest)
And that's an honor equal to your greatness.
_Otr._ I'll give thee what thou wilt.
_Flo._ Tempt me no more then:
Give me that peace, and then you give abundance,
I know ye do but try me, ye are noble,
All these are but to try my modesty,
If you should find me easie, and once coming,
I see your eyes already how they would fright me;
I see your honest heart how it would swell
And burst it self into a grief against me:
Your tongue in noble anger, now, even now Sir,
Ready to rip my loose thoughts to the bottom,
And lay my shame unto my self, wide open:
You are a noble Lord, you pitty poor maids,
The people are mistaken in your courses:
You, like a father, try 'em to the uttermost.
As they do Gold: you purge the dross from them,
And make them shine.
_Otr._ This cunning cannot help ye:
I love ye to enjoy [ye]: I have stol'n ye
To enjoy ye now, not to be fool'd with circumstance,
Yield willingly, or else.
_Flo._ What?
_Otr._ I will force ye.
I will not be delay'd, a poor base wench
That I, in curtesie, make offer to,
Argue with me?
_Flo._ Do not, you will loose your labor,
Do not my Lord, it will become ye poorly:
Your courtesie may do much on my nature,
For I am kind as you are, and as tender:
If you compel, I have my strengths to flye to,
My honest thoughts, and those are guards about me:
I can cry too, and noise enough I dare make,
And I have curses, that will call down thunder,
For all I am a poor wench, heaven will hear me:
My body you may force, but my will never;
And be sure I do not live if you do force me,
Or have no tongue to tell your beastly Story,
For if I have, and if there be a justice.
_Otr._ Pray ye go in here: I'll calm my self for this time.
And be your friend again.
_Flo._ I am commanded. [_Exit._
_Otr._ You cannot scape me, yet I must enjoy ye,
I'll lie with thy wit, though I miss thy honesty:
Is this a wench for a Boors hungry bosom?
A morsel for a Peasants base embraces?
And must I starve, and the meat in my mouth?
I'll none of that.
_Enter_ Gerasto.
_Ger._ How now my Lord, how sp[e]d ye?
Have ye done the deed?
_Otr._ No, pox upon't, she is honest.
_Ger._ Honest, what's that? you take her bare denial,
Was there ever wench brought up in a mill, and honest?
That were a wonder worth a Chronicle,
Is your belief so large? what did she say to ye?
_Otr._ She said her honesty was all her dowry,
And preach'd unto me, how unfit, and homely,
Nay how dishonourable it would seem in me
To act my will; popt me i'th mouth with modesty.
_Ger._ What an impudent Quean was that! that's their
trick ever.
_Otr._ And then discours'd to me very learnedly
What fame and loud opinion would tell of me:
A wife she touch'd at.
_Ger._ Out upon her Varlet.
Was she so bold? these home-spun things are [d]evils,
They'll tell ye a thousand lies, if you'll believe 'em;
And stand upon their honors like great Ladies,
They'll speak unhappily too: good words to cozen ye,
And outwardly seem Saints: they'll cry down-right also,
But 'tis for anger that you do not crush 'em.
Did she not talk of being with child?
_Otr._ She toucht at it.
_Ger._ The trick of an arrant whore to milk your Lordship;
And then a pension nam'd?
_Otr._ No, no, she scorn'd it:
I offer'd any thing, but she refus'd all,
Refus'd it with a confident hate.
_Ger._ You thought so,
You should have taken her then, turn'd her, and tew'd her
I'th'strength of all her resolution, flatter'd her,
And shak't her stubborn will: she would have thank'd ye,
She would have lov'd ye infinitely, they must seem modest,
It is their parts: if you had plaid your part Sir.
And handl'd her as men do unman'd Hawks,
Cast her, and malde her up in good clean linnen,
And there have coyed her, you had caught her heart-strings.
These tough Virginities they blow like white thornes
In storms and tempests.
_Otr._ She is beyond all this,
As cold, and harden'd, as the Virgin Crystal.
_Ger._ Oh force her, force her, Sir, she longs to be ravish'd
Some have no pleasure but in violence;
To be torn in pieces is their paradise:
'Tis ordinary in our Countrey, Sir, to ravish all
They will not give a penny for their sport
Unless they be put to it, and terribly,
And then they swear they'll hang the man comes near 'em,
And swear it on his lips too.
_Otr._ No, no forcing,
I have an other course, and I will follow it,
I command you, and do you command your fellows,
That when you see her next, disgrace, and scorn her,
I'll seem to put her out o'th' dores o'th' sodain
And leave her to conjecture, then seize on her.
Away, be ready straight.
_Ger._ We shall not fail, Sir. [_Exit._
_Otr. Florimel._
_Enter_ Florimell.
_Flo._ My Lord.
_Otr._ I am sure you have now consider'd
And like a wise wench weigh'd a friends displeasure,
Repented your proud thoughts, and cast your scorn off.
_Flo._ My Lord, I am not proud, I was never beautiful.
Nor scorn I any thing that's just and honest.
_Otr._ Come, to be short, can ye love yet? you told me
Kindness would far compell ye: I am kind to ye,
And mean to exceed that way.
_Flo._ I told ye too, Sir,
As far as it agreed with modesty,
With honour, and with honesty I would yield to ye:
Good my Lord: take some other Theam: for Love,
Alass, I never knew yet what it meant,
And on the sudden Sir, to run through Volumes
Of his most mystick art, 'tis most impossible;
Nay, to begin with lust, which is an Heresie,
A foul one too; to learn that in my childhood:
O good my Lord.
_Otr._ You will not out of this song,
Your modesty, and honesty, is that all?
I will not force ye.
_Flo._ Ye are too noble, Sir.
[_Otr._ Nor play the childish fool, and marry ye,
I am yet not mad.
_Flo._ If ye did, men would imagine.]
_Otr._ Nor will I woo ye at that infinite price
It may be you expect.
_Flo._ I expect your pardon,
And a discharge (my Lord) that's all I look for.
_Otr._ No, nor fall sick for love.
_Flo._ 'Tis a heathful year Sir.
_Otr._ Look ye, I'll turn ye out o'dores, and scorn ye.
_Flo._ Thank ye my Lord.
_Otr._ A proud slight Peat I found ye,
A fool (it may be too.)
_Flo._ An honest woman,
Good my Lord think me.
_Otr._ And a base I [l]eave ye,
So fare-ye-well. [_Exit._
[_Flo._ Blessing attend your Lordship;
This is hot love, that vanisheth like vapors;
His Ague's off, his burning fits are well quench'd,
I thank heaven for't: his men, they will not force me.]
_Enter_ Gerasto _and Servants_.
_Ger._ What dost thou stay for? dost thou not know the way,
Thou base unprovident whore?
_Flo._ Good words, pray ye Gentlemen.
_1 Ser._ Has my Lord smoak'd ye over, good-wife Miller?
Is your Mill broken that you stand so useless?
_2 Ser._ An impudent Quean, upon my life she is unwholsome
Some base discarded thing my Lord has found her,
He would not have turn'd her off o'th'sudden else.
_Ger._ Now against every sack (my honest sweet heart)
With every _Smig_ and _Smug_.
_Flo._ I must be patient.
_Ger._ And every greasie guest, and sweaty Rascall
For his Royal hire between his fingers, Gentlewoman.
_1 Ser._ I fear thou hast given my Lord the ---- thou damn'd thing.
_2 Ser._ I have seen her in the Stewes.
_Ger._ The knave her father
Was Bawd to her there, and kept a Tipling house,
You must even to it again: a modest function.
_Flo._ If ye had honesty, ye would not use me
Thus basely, wretchedly, though your Lord bid ye,
But he that knows.
_Ger._ Away thou carted impudence,
You meat for every man: a little meal
Flung in your face, makes ye appear so proud.
_Flo._ This is inhumane. Let these tears persuade you,
If ye be men, to use a poor girl better;
I wrong not you, I am sure I call you Gentlemen.
_Enter_ Otrante.
_Otr._ What business is here? away, are not you gone yet?
_Flo._ My Lord, this is not well: although you hate me,
For what I know not; to let your people wrong me,
Wrong me maliciously, and call me.--
_Otr._ Peace,
And mark me what we say advisedly;
Mark, as you love that that you call your credit;
Yield now, or you are undone: your good name's perish'd
Not all the world can buy your reputation;
'Tis sunk for ever else, these peoples tongues will poison ye
Though you be white as innocence they'll taint ye,
They will speak terrible and hideous things,
And people in this age are prone to credit,
They'll let fall nothing that may brand a woman,
Consider this, and then be wise and tremble,
Yield yet, and yet I'll save ye.
_Flo._ How?
_Otr._ I'll show ye,
Their mouths I'll seal up, they shall speak no more
But what is honorable and honest of ye,
And Saintlike they shall worship ye: they are mine,
And what I charge them _Florimell_.
_Flo._ I am ruin'd,
Heaven will regard me yet, they are barbarous wretches:
Let me not fall (my Lord.)
_Otr._ You shall not _Florimell_:
Mark how I'll work your peace, and how I honor ye.
Who waits there? come all in.
_Enter_ Gerasto _and Servants_.
_Ger._ Your pleasure Sir.
_Otr._ Who dare say this sweet beauty is not heavenly?
This virgin, the most pure the most untainted,
The holiest thing?
_Ger._ We know it (my dear Lord)
We are her slaves: and that proud impudence
That dares disparage her, this sword (my Lord.)
_1. Ser._ They are rascals, base, the sons of common women
That wrong this virtue, or dare own a thought
But fair and honorable of her: when we slight her,
Hang us, or cut's in pieces: let's tug i'th' Gallies.
_2 Ser._ Brand us for villains.
_Flo._ Why sure I dream: these are all Saints.
_Otr._ Go, and live all her slaves.
_Ger._ We are proud to do it. [_Exeunt._
_Otr._ What think ye now? am not I able _Florimell_
Yet to preserve ye?
_Flo._ I am bound to your Lordship,
Ye are all honour, and good my Lord but grant me,
Untill to morrow, leave to weigh my fortunes,
I'll give you a free answer, perhaps a pleasing,
Indeed I'll do the best I can to satisfie ye.
_Otr._ Take your good time, this kiss, till then farewell,
Sweet. [_Exeunt._
Actus Quartus.
_Scæna Prima._
_Enter_ Antonio, Martine, Bustofa.
_Mar._ By all means discharge your follower.
_Ant._ If we can get him off: Sirrah _Bustofa_
Thou must needs run back.
_Bust._ But I must not unless you send
A Bier, or a Lictor at my back, I do not use to run
From my friends.
_Ant._ Well, go will serve turn: I have forgot.
_Bust._ What Sir?
_Ant._ See if I can think on't now.
_Bust._ I know what 'tis now.
_Ant._ A Pistolet of that.
_Bust._ Done, you have forgot a devise to send me away,
You are going a smocking perhaps.
_Mar._ His own, due, due i'faith _Antonio_,
The Pistolet's his own.
_Ant._ I confess it,
There 'tis: now if you could afford out of it
A reasonable excuse to mine Uncle.
_Bust._ Yes, I can:
But an excuse will not serve your turn: it must be a lye,
A full lye, 'twill do no good else: if you'll go to
The price of that?
_Ant._ Is a lye dearer than an excuse?
_Bust._ Oh, treble; this is the price of an excuse: but a lye
is two more:
Look how many foyles go to a fair fall, so many excuses to
A full lye, and less cannot serve your turn, let any Tailor
I'th' Town make it.
_Mar._ Why 'tis reasonable, give him his price:
Let it be large enough now.
_Bust._ I'll warrant you, cover him all over.
_Ant._ I would have proof of one now.
_Bust._ What? scale my invention before hand? you shall pardon
Me for that; well, I'll commend you to your Uncle, and
Tell him you'll be at home at supper with him.
_Ant._ By no means, I cannot come to night (man)
_Bust._ I know that too, you do not know a lye when you see it.
_Mar._ Remember it must stretch for all night.
_Bust._ I shall want stuffe, I doubt 'twill come to the other
_Pistolet_.
_Ant._ Well, lay out, you shall be no looser Sir.
_Bust._ It must be faced, you know, there will be a yard of
dissimulation
At least (City-measure) and cut upon an untroth or two: Lyned
With Fables, that must needs be, cold weather's coming, if it had
A gallon of hypocrisie, 'twould do well: and hooked
Together with a couple of conceits,
That's necessity; well, I'll bring in my
Bill: I'll warrant you as fair a lye by that time I have done
With it, as any Gentleman i'th' Town can swear to, if he
Would betray his Lord and Master. [_Exit._
_Ant._ So, so, this necessary trouble's over.
_Mar._ I would you had bought an excuse of him
Before he went: you'll want one for _Ismenia_.
_Ant._ Tush, there needs none, there's no suspition yet,
And I'll be arm'd before the next encounter,
In a fast tye with my fair _Isabella_.
_Enter_ Bustofa.