Sulp. These are but easie labours Yet, for I know he must have rest.

Ja. He must—­you’ll beat him off his legs else presently.

Sul. Go in, and bid him please himself, I am pleas’d too:  To morrow’s a new day; but if he can I would have him take pity o’ the old Lady.  Alas ’tis charity.

Jaq. I’le tell him all this, And if he be not too fool-hardy.

Enter Zabulon.

Sulp. How now?  What news with you?

Zab. You must presently Shew all the art you have, and for my Lady.

Sulp. She may command.

Zab. You must not dream nor trifle.

Sulp. Which way?

Zab. A spell you must prepare, a powerful one, Peruse but these directions, you shall find all; There is the picture too, be quick, and faithful, And do it with that strength—­when ’tis perform’d, Pitch your reward at what you please, you have it.

Sul. I’le do my best, and suddenly:  but hark ye, Will you never lye at home again?

Zab. Excuse me, I have too much business yet.

Sulp. I am right glad on’t.

Zab. Think on your business, so farewel.

Sulp. I’le do it.

Zab. Within this hour I’le visit you again And give you greater lights.

Sulp. I shall observe ye; This brings a brave reward, bravely I’le do it, And all the hidden art I have, express in’t. [Exeunt at both doors.

Enter Rutilio with a Night-cap.

Rut. Now do I look as if I were Crow-trodden,
Fye, how my hams shrink under me!  O me,
I am broken-winded too; is this a life? 
Is this the recreation I have aim’d at? 
I had a body once, a handsome body,
And wholesome too.  Now I appear like a rascal,
That had been hung a year or two in Gibbets. 
Fye how I faint! women? keep me from women;
Place me before a Cannon, ’tis a pleasure;
Stretch me upon a Rack, a recreation;
But women? women?  O the Devil! women?
Curtius Gulf was never half so dangerous. 
Is there no way to find the Trap-door again,
And fall into the Cellar, and be taken? 
No lucky fortune to direct me that way? 
No Gallies to be got, nor yet no Gallows? 
For I fear nothing now, no earthly thing
But these unsatisfied Men-leeches, women. 
How devilishly my bones ake!  O the old Lady! 
I have a kind of waiting-woman lyes cross my back too,
O how she stings! no treason to deliver me? 
Now what are you? do you mock me?

  Enter 3. with Night-caps very faintly.

1 No Sir, no; We were your Predecessors in this place.

2 And come to see you bear up.

Rut. Good Gentlemen; You seem to have a snuffing in your head Sir, A parlous snuffing, but this same dampish air—­