Take your joy moderately, as it is ministred,
     And as the cause invites:  that man’s a fool
     That at the sight o’th’ Bond, dances and leaps,
     Then is the true joy, when the mony comes.

     Lean.

     You cannot now deny me.

     Ama.  Nay, you know not,
     Women have crotchets, and strange fits.

     Lean.

     You shall not.

     Ama.

     Hold ye to that and swear it confidently,
     Then I shall make a scruple to deny ye: 
     ’Pray ye let’s step in, and see a friend of mine,
     The weather’s sharp:  we’ll stay but half an hour,
     We may be miss’d else:  a private fine house ’tis, Sir,
     And we may find many good welcomes.

     Lean.

     Do Lady,
     Do happy Lady.

     Ama.

     All your mind’s of doing,
     You must be modester.

     Lean.

     I will be any thing.

[Exeunt.

     SCENA VII.

     Enter Bartolus.

     Bar.

     Open the doors, and give me room to chafe in
     Mine own room, and my liberty:  why Maid there,
     Open I say, and do not anger me,
     I am subject to much fury:  when, ye Dish-clout? 
     When do ye come? asleep ye lazie Hell-hound? 
     Nothing intended, but your ease, and eating? 
     No body here? why Wife, why Wife? why Jewel? 
     No tongue to answer me? pre’thee, good Pupil,
     Dispense a little with thy careful study,
     And step to th’ door, and let me in; nor he neither? 
     Ha! not at’s study? nor asleep? nor no body? 
     I’le make ye hear:  the house of ignorance,
     No sound inhabits here:  I have a Key yet
     That commands all:  I fear I am Metamorphiz’d.

     Enter Lopez, Arsenio, Milanes, Diego.

     Lop.

     He keeps his fury still, and may do mischief.

     Mil.

     He shall be hang’d first, we’ll be sticklers there, boys.

     Die.

     The hundred thousand Dreams now, that possess him
     Of jealousie, and of revenge, and frailtie,
     Of drawing Bills against us, and Petitions.

     Lop.

     And casting what his credit shall recover.

     Mil.

     Let him cast till his Maw come up, we care not. 
     You shall be still secured. [A great noise within.

     Die.

     We’ll pay him home then;
     Hark what a noise he keeps within!

     Lop.

     Certain
     H’as set his Chimneys o’ fire, or the Devil roars there.

     Die.

The Codixes o’th’ Law are broke loose, Gentlemen.