O that Monsieur Miramont would but keep his word. 
Here were a feast to make him fat with laughter,
At the most ’tis not six minutes riding from his house,
Nor will he break I hope—­O are you come Sir? 
The prey is in the net and will break in
Upon occasion. Mir. Thou shall rule me Andrew. 
O th’ infinite fright that will assaile this Gentleman! 
The quarterns, tertians, and quotidians
That will hang like Sargeants on his worships shoulders! 
The humiliation of the flesh of this man! 
This grave austere man will be wondred at. 
How will those solemne lookes appeare to me;
And that severe face, that speak chaines and shackles? 
Now I take him in the nick, ere I done with him,
He had better have stood between two panes of wainscot;
And made his recantation in the market,
Than heare me conjure him. And. He must passe this way,
To th’ onely bed I have, he comes, stand close.

Bri. Well done, well done, give me my night-cap.  So. 
Quick, quick, untruss me; I will truss and trounce thee;
Come Wench a kiss between each point; kiss close;
It is a sweet Parenthesis. Lil. Y’are merry Sir.

Bri. Merry I will be anon, and thou shall feele it, Thou shall my Lilly. Lil. Shall I aire your bed, Sir?

Bri. No, no, Ile use no warming pan but thine, Girle; That’s all; Come kiss me again. Lil. Ha’ye done yet?

Bri. No, but I will doe, and doe wonders, Lilly. 
Shew me the way. Lil. You cannot misse it, Sir;
You shall have a Cawdle in the morning, for
Your worships breakfast. Bri. How, ith’ morning. Lilly? 
Th’art such a wittie thing to draw me on. 
Leave fooling, Lilly, I am hungry now,
And th’ hast another Kickshaw, I must tast it.

Lil. Twill make you surfet, I am tender of you:  Y’have all y’are like to have. And. And can this be earnest?

Mir. it seemes so, and she honest. Bri. Have I not
Thy promise Lilly? Lil. Yes and I have performed
Enough to a man of your yeares, this is truth,
And you shall find Sir, you have kist and tows’d me,
Handled my legg and foote, what would you more, Sir,? 
As for the rest, it requires youth and strength,
And the labour in an old man would breed Agues,
Sciaticaes, and Cramps; you shall not curse me,
For taking from you what you cannot spare, Sir: 
Be good unto your selfe, y’ave tane alreadie
All you can take with ease; you are past threshing,
It is a worke too boisterous for you; leave
Such drudgerie to Andrew. Mir. How she jeeres him?