JACK FIDDLERS. 
Here dwells Sir Raderic and his son.  It may be now at this good time of
new year he will be liberal.  Let us stand near, and draw.

PHILOMUSUS. 
Draw, callest thou it?  Indeed, it is the most desperate kind of service
that ever I adventured on.

ACTUS V., SCAENA 2.

    Enter the two PAGES.

SIR RADERIC’S PAGE.  My master bids me tell you that he is but newly fallen asleep, and you, base slaves, must come and disquiet them!  What, never a basket of capons? mass, and if he comes, he’ll commit you all.

AMORETTO’S PAGE.  Sirrah Jack, shall you and I play Sir Raderic and Amoretto, and reward these fiddlers?  I’ll my Master Amoretto, and give them as much as he useth.

SIR RADERIC’S PAGE. 
And I my old Master Sir Raderic.  Fiddlers, play.  I’ll reward you; faith,
I will.

AMORETTO’S PAGE. 
Good faith, this pleaseth my sweet mistress admirably.  Cannot you play
Twitty, twatty, fool? or, To be at her, to be at her?

SIR RADERIC’S PAGE. 
Have you never a song of Master Dowland’s making?

AMORETTO’S PAGE. 
Or, Hos ego versiculos feci, &c.  A pox on it! my Master Amoretto
useth it very often:  I have forgotten the verse.

SIR RADERIC’S PAGE.  Sir Theon,[131] here are a couple of fellows brought before me, and I know not how to decide the cause:  look in my Christmas-book, who brought me a present.

AMORETTO’S PAGE. 
On New-Year’s day, goodman Fool brought you a present; but goodman Clown
brought you none.

SIR RADERIC’S PAGE. 
Then the right is on goodman Fool’s side.

AMORETTO’S PAGE.  My mistress is so sweet, that all the physicians in the town cannot make her stink; she never goes to the stool.  O, she is a most sweet little monkey.  Please your worship, good father, yonder are some would speak with you.

SIR RADERIC’S PAGE.  What, have they brought me anything?  If they have not, say I take physic. [SIR RADERIC’S voice within.] Forasmuch, fiddlers, as I am of the peace, I must needs love all weapons and instruments that are for the peace, among which I account your fiddles, because they can neither bite nor scratch.  Marry, now, finding your fiddles to jar, and knowing that jarring is a cause of breaking the peace, I am, by the virtue of my office and place, to commit your quarrelling fiddles to close prisonment in their cases. [The fiddlers call within.] Sha ho!  Richard!  Jack!

AMORETTO’S PAGE.  The fool within mars our play without.  Fiddlers, set it on my head.  I use to size my music, or go on the score for it:  I’ll pay it at the quarter’s end.

SIR RADERIC’S PAGE.  Farewell, good Pan! sweet Thamyras,[132] adieu!  Dan Orpheus, a thousand times farewell!

JACK FIDDLERS. 
You swore you would pay us for our music.