Hen.  Oh doe not racke my soule with these sad accents. 
Am I Henrico? there is not any place
Can promise such security as this
To Eleonora.  Doe not talke of dying,
Our best dayes are to come:  putt on thy quiet,
And be above the reach of a misfortune. 
Ile presently wayte on thee, by this kisse.

Buz.  Would I might keepe your oath:  so please you, lady, Buzzano will sweare too.

Hen.  What?

Buz.  That you’le be there and here agen presently.

Hen.  Attend here, sirra.

Buz.  If you must needes goe, pray, sir, keepe yourselfe out of Gun-shott.

Hen.  Mind you your charge.

Buz.  You shall heare a good report of my piece, I warrant you.  Take heed you be not sent to heaven with a powder:  a company of hott shotts[15] are abroad, I can tell you.

Ele.  If you will goe may your successe be faire.

Hen.  Farewell; heaven cannot chuse but heare your prayer.
          
                                          [Exit.

Buz.  Now what please you, madam? that I shall amble, trott, or walke?

Ele.  Any pace.

Buz.  Yet, if you would referre it to me, I’de use none of them.

Ele.  What wouldst doe?

Buz.  Why I would gallop or run, for I think long till I be at home in our Castle of comfort.  If it please you Ile lead you a hand gallop in the plaine ground, trott up hill with you & racke[16] downewards.

Ele.  Talke not of rackes, prithee; the times present too many.

Buz.  Ride me as you will, then; I am used both to curbe and snaffle.

Ele.  I prithee tell me, Buzzano,—­so, I heare thy master call thee—­

Buz.  He may call me at his pleasure, forsooth.

Ele.  Dost thou know the nature of the English?

Buz.  Both men and women:  I travelled thither with an Embassadour.  For the men Ile not misse you a haire of their condition; and for the women I know ’em as well as if I had bene in their bellyes.

Ele.  Are they not cruell?

Buz.  As Tygers, when they set on’t:  no mercy unlesse we aske them forgiveness.

Ele.  That’s somewhat yet.

Buz.  But not to you; that’s onely to men; for lett the women fall downe afore ’em never so often they’le rather fall upon them.  Nay, some of them are so spitefull they’le breake their owne backes before they let ’em rise againe.

Ele.  Foole, I meane not your way.

Buz.  Keepe your owne way, madam; I meane the playne way.

Ele.  Are they not unmercifull in their natures to such as are in their power, their Enemyes as we may be?