Wel.  I ask you mercy Sir, you have ta’ne my edge off:  yet I would fain be even with this Lady.

Elder Lo.  In which I’le be your helper:  we are two, and they are two:  two Sisters, rich alike, only the elder has the prouder Dowry:  In troth I pity this disgrace in you, yet of mine own I am senceless:  do but follow my Counsel, and I’le pawn my spirit, we’l overreach ’em yet; the means is this—­

Enter Servant.

Ser.  Sir there’s a Gentlewoma[n] will needs speak with you, I cannot keep her out, she’s entred Sir.

Elder Lo.  It is the waiting woman, pray be not seen:  sirrah hold her in discourse a while:  hark in your ear, go and dispatch it quickly, when I come in, I’le tell you all the project.

Wel.  I care not which I have. [Exit Welford.

Elder Lo.  Away, ’tis done, she must not see you:  now Lady Guiniver what news with you?

Enter Abigal.

Abig.  Pray leave these frumps Sir, and receive this letter.

Elder Lo.  From whom good vanity?

Abig.  ’Tis from my Lady Sir:  Alas good soul, she cries and takes on!

Elder Lo.  Do’s she so good Soul? wou’d she not have a Cawdle? do’s she send you with your fine Oratory goody Tully to tye me to believe again? bring out the Cat-hounds, I’le make you take a tree Whore, then with my tiller bring down your Gibship, and then have you cast, and hung up i’th’ Warren.

Abig.  I am no beast Sir, would you knew it.

Elder Lo.  Wou’d I did, for I am yet very doubtful; what will you say now?

Abig.  Nothing not I.

Elder Lo.  Art thou a woman, and say nothing?

Abig.  Unless you’l hear me with more moderation, I can speak wise enough.

Elder Lo.  And loud enough? will your Lady love me?

Abig.  It seems so by her letter, and her lamentations; but you are such another man.

Elder Lo.  Not such another as I was, Mumps; nor will not be:  I’le read her fine Epistle:  ha, ha, ha, is not thy Mistress mad?

Abig.  For you she will be, ’tis a shame you should use a poor Gentlewoman so untowardly; she loves the ground you tread on; and you (hard heart) because she jested with you, mean to kill her; ’tis a fine conquest as they say.

Elder Lo.  Hast thou so much moisture in the Whitleather hide yet, that thou canst cry?  I wou’d have sworn thou hadst been touchwood five year since; nay let it rain, thy face chops for a shower like a dry Dunghil.

Abig.  I’le not indure this Ribauldry; farewel i’th’ Devils name; if my Lady die, I’le be sworn before a Jury, thou art the cause on’t.

Elder Lo.  Do Maukin do, deliver to your Lady from me this:  I mean to see her, if I have no other business:  which before I’le want to come to her, I mean to go seek birds nests:  yet I may come too:  but if I come, from this door till I see her, will I think how to rail vildly at her; how to vex her, and make her cry so much, that the Physician if she fall sick upon’t, shall find the cause to be want of Urine, and she remediless dye in her Heresie:  Farewell old Adage, I hope to see the Boys make Potguns on thee.