_Epi_. Yes.
1 _Cam_. No matter; some husbands are so base, they keepe the doore
whilst they are Cuckolded; but this is after a more manlier way, for
he stands bound to see it done.
_King_. Haile her away.
1 _Cam_. Come, Pusse! Haile her away? which way? yon way? my Camells
backs cannot climbe it.
_Anton_. The fellow is struck mad.
1 _Cam_. That way? it lookes into a Mill-pond,
Whirre! how the Wheels goe and the Divell grindes.
No, this way.
_King_. Keepe the slave back!
_1 Cam_. Backe, keep me backe! there sits my wife kembing her haire,
which curles like a witches felt-locks[171]! all the Neets in't are
Spiders, and all the Dandruffe the sand of a Scriveners Sand-boxe.
Stand away; my whore shall not be lousie; let me come noynt her with
Stavesucre[172].
_King_. Defend me, lop his hands off!
_Omnes_. Hew him in pieces
_King_. What has he done?
_Anton_. Sir, beate out his owne braines.
_Vict_. You for his soule must answer.
_King_. Fetch another.
_Eugen_. Tempt not the wrath supernall to fall downe
And crush thee in thy throne.
_Enter 2 Cammell drivers_.
_King_. Peace, sorcerous slave:
Sirra, take hence this Witch and ravish her.