Cittie wife.  Ah good hearts! would I had stood between you, when he let flie so violently.

Ser.  We voide of hostile armes.

Hostis.  I, if they had had horses, they had sav’d their armes.

Serv.  Be capable, I meane, void of armorie.

Citty-wife.  Untill ye had armor on.

Serv.  Had I bene accompanied, with my Toledo or morglay.[267]

Cittie wife.  I, your Dogge or Bitch.

Serv.  Continue, I beseech, I meane my sword, sole lye my sword.

Cittie wife.  Or solely your sword, better a bad toole then none at all.

Serv.  In the concourse—­

Cittie w.  Nay, the concourse will light on him for it, I warrant.

Serv.  I, for the tuition of my Capitall, did mount my Semisphere, three degrees, that as a strong, & stony guard did defend my Capitall.

Citty w.  Twas well ye kept him out, for if he had entered on your stony Guard, he would have spoilede your Capitall.

Serv.  In fine, being mortally assaild, he did preambulate [sic] or walk off.

Scil.  Yes, faith, he did preambulate, and walke mee finely.

Cittie w.  Good heartes, how many were there of them?

Serv.  About the number of seaven.

Scil.  I, there was seaven.

Serv.  Or eight.

Scil.  Or eight.

Serv.  Rather more.

Citty w.  I, more at least, I warrant ye.

Hostis.  Alasse ye cannot chuse but be more hurt, but ile search you throughly, be assured.

Citty w.  And if she cannot helpe ye fewe can; shee knowes what belongs to a Tent,[268] or a bruse, and experience is good in those cases.

Serv.  I have a concupiscent forme of trust in your skil, it will malladise.

Citty wi.  I, feare not, put both your concupisences in me for that matter.

Serv.  The generous will disburse coynage for satisfaction of your metaphisicall endevour.

Scil.  Yes, yes, I will discharge all.

Cittie wife.  Wee make no doubt of that; come into a chamber, ye shall lye downe awhile; perhaps youle bee stiffe anon, then you shall use your legges, the more you strive with it the better.  Alas, good hearts!

[Exeunt.

Phy.  Sol, sol, la!  Tapster, give attendance!  Gentlemen, I hope all we are friends, the welkin is skie colour still, and men must grow by degrees; you must pardon me, I must sp—­speak my minde.

Grac.  The uttermost of your minde at this time cannot be offensive.

Phy. The fryer was in the—­sol, sol, draw the tother quart.  I hope you are not angrie gallants; and ye come to my lodging, ye shall be welcome; my Hostes shall bid you welcome, shee’s a good wench; if I say the word, she wil fa—­fullfill it.