Eu. Wynnefred.

Wyn.  Madam.

Eu.  I prethee goe to my uncle the Lord Monford, and intreat him to come quicken our Eares with some of his pleasant Spirit; This same Fowleweather has made me so melancholly, prethie make haste.

Wyn.  I will Madam. [Exit.

Hip.  We will bid our guests good night, Madam; this same Fowleweather makes me so sleepy.

Pen.  Fie uppon it; for Gods sake shut the Casements, heres such a fulsome Aire comes into this Chamber; in good faith Madame you must keepe your House in better reparations, this same Fowlweather beats in so filthily.

Eug.  Ile take order with the Porter for it, Lady:  good night, gentlemen.

Ru.  Why good night, and be hangd, and you’l needs be gon.

Goos.  God give you good night Madams, thanke you for my good cheere, weele tickle the vanity ant no longer with you at this time but ile indite your La. to supper at my lodging one of these mornings; and that ere long too, because we are all mortall you know.

Eu, Light the Lady Penelope, and the Lady Hippolyta to their Chambers; good night faire Ladies.

Hip.  Good night, Madam; I wish you may sleep well after your light supper.

Eug, I warrant you, Lady, I shall never be troubled with dreaming of my French Suter.
                      [Exeunt.

Ru.  Why how now my Frenchified captain Fowlweather? by Cods ludd thy Surname is never thought upon here, I perceive heeres nobody gives thee any commendations.

Fo.  Why this is the untravaild rudnes of our grose Englesh Ladies now; would any French Lady use a man thus thinke ye? be they any way so uncivill, and fulsome? they say they weare fowle smockes, and course smockes; I say they lie, and I will die int.

Rud.  I, doe so, pray thee, thou shalt die in a very honorable cause, thy countries generall quarrell right.

Foul.  Their smockes, quoth you? a my word you shall take them up so white, and so pure, so sweet, so Emphaticall, so mooving—­

Rud.  I marry Sir, I thinke they be continually moving.

Foul.  But if their smockes were course or foule.

Rud.  Nay I warrant thee thou carest not, so thou wert at them.

Foul.  S’death they put not all their virtues in their smockes, or in their mockes, or in their stewde cockes as our Ladies doe.

Rud.  But in their stewd pox, thers all their gentilitie.

Goos.  Nay, good Sir Cutt., doe not agravate him no more.

Foul.  Then they are so kinde, so wise, so familiar, so noble, so sweet in entertainment, that when you shall have cause to descourse or sometimes to come neerer them; if your breath be ill, your teeth ill, or any thing about you ill, why they will presently breake with ye, in kinde sort, good termes, pretty experiments, and tell you plaine this; thus it is with your breath, Sir, thus it is with your teeth, Sir, this is your disease, and this is your medicine.