Young Lo. I’le doe it presently.

El.  Lo. Come thou shalt kiss him for our sport sake.

La. Let him come on then; and do you hear, do not instruct me in these tricks, for you may repent it.

El.  Lo. That at my peril.  Lusty Mr. Morecraft, Here is a Lady would salute you.

Mor. She shall not lose her longing Sir:  what is she?

Elder Lo. My wife Sir.

Mor. She must be then my Mistres.

Lady. Must I Sir?

Elder Lo. O yes, you must.

Mor. And you must take this ring, a poor pawn Of some fiftie pound.

El Lo. Take it by any means, ’tis lawfull prize.

Lady. Sir I shall call you servant.

Mor. I shall be proud on’t:  what fellow’s that?

Young Lo. My Ladies Coachman.

Mor. There’s something, (my friend) for you to buy whips, And for you Sir, and you Sir.

Elder Lo. Under a miracle this is the strangest I ever heard of.

Mor. What, shall we play, or drink? what shall we doe?  Who will hunt with me for a hundred pounds?

Wel. Stranger and Stranger!  Sir you shall find sport after a day or two.

Young Lo. Sir I have a sute unto you Concerning your old servant Savil.

Elder Lo. O, for his keys, I know it.

Savil. Now Sir, strike in.

Mor. Sir I must have you grant me.

Elder Lo. ’Tis done Sir, take your keys again:  But hark you Savil, leave off the motions Of the flesh, and be honest, or else you shall graze again:  I’le try you once more.

Savil. If ever I be taken drunk, or whoring, Take off the biggest key i’th’ bunch, and open My head with it Sir:  I humbly thank your worships.

Elder Lo. Nay then I see we must keep holiday.
    Enter Roger, and Abigal. 
Here’s the last couple in hell.

Roger. Joy be among you all.

Lady. Why how now Sir, what is the meaning of this emblem?

Roger. Marriage an’t like your worship.

Lady. Are you married?

Roger. As well as the next Priest could doe it, Madam.

Elder Lo. I think the sign’s in Gemini, here’s such coupling.

Wel. Sir Roger, what will you take to lie from your sweet-heart to night?

Roger. Not the best benefice in your worships gift Sir.

Wel. A whorson, how he swells.

Young Lo. How many times to night Sir Roger?

Roger. Sir you grow scurrilous:  What I shall do, I shall do:  I shall not need your help.

Young Lo. For horse flesh Roger.

Elder Lo. Come prethee be not angry, ’tis a day Given wholly to our mirth.