Citty w.  What? she shall not come yet:  if you lay down the bucklers, you lose the victorie.

Hostis.  By my troth, I must goe, we shall have such a coyle else.

Cittie w.  A coyle! why, have you not a tongue in your head? faith if ye win not all at that weapon, yee are not worthy to be a woman.  You heare not the news abroade?

Hostis.  No:  what newes?

City W.  No, I warrant ye, you never come abroad; this is to be troubled with a fatte man, he never comes abroad himself nor suffers his wife out of his sight:  yee shall ever have a fatte Host either on his bench at the dore or in his chair at the chimney; & there he spits and spaules a roome like twentie Tobacco-takers.  Oh! fye on them, beasts!

Hostis.  I prethee, what newes?

Citty w.  Oh! woman, the most hardfavoured newes, and without all conscience:  they say theres a statute made, any woman that buries her husband is not to marrie againe of two monthes after.

Hostis.  A tedious time, by Lady; a month were enough.

Cittie w.  I, halfe a month; winter nights are long and colde.  Ile tell ye, I have buried sixe, and thank my good fortune I ever knewe the next ere the other was in his winding sheete.

Pre.  Mistris, my maister is angrie, and the Guests cal for their Hostesse.

Hostis.  Goe, I come:  Gossip, when shall I see you agen?

Citty w.  Nay, when shall I see you abroad? sildome, i’me sure.

Hostis.  I must needes away; God buy you, Gossip.

Cittie w.  God buy ye; Gods so, I have forgot wherefore I came:  a word ere you goe, the party yee wott on commends him unto ye, he that met the other party in the white felt, the yellow scarf, and the round Venetian,[246] when the other party kis’t you, and I broake the jest on him, when hee said kisses kindeles Coules and love searches.

Hostis.  Oh!  I remember him, yes faith, hee’s prettie well set; hee ha’s the right trick with the tongue in his kisse, and hee dances reasonably comely, but he fals heavie.

Citty w.  He savours of a kinde of Gallant, but not of a Courtyer.

Hostis.  Well weele have a night out, god be with ye, Gossip.

Cittie wife.  God buy ye.

[Exeunt.

[ACT THE SECOND.

Scene 1.]

Enter Lentulus and Tulley.

Lentu.  Not yours nor her owne, Terentia.—­Yours in modestie, Flavia. 
See, Tulley, what an active passive love hath plaide;
I love and am again beloved, but at the shrine
Where I do offer up my Cordiall sacrifice,
I am returnd with peremptorie scorne;
And where I stand but as a gazer, viewing
All alike, I am pursude
With violent passions, a speaking eye
Bindes favours and now discovering lines.[247]
Thy counsell now, deere friend; for at thy direction
Stands my thrall or freedome.