Shall it be done?

     Jam.

     Shall? ’tis too tedious:  furnish me with means
     To hire the instruments, and to your self
     Say it is done already:  I will shew you,
     E’re the Sun set, how much you have wrought upon me,
     Your province is only to use some means,
     To send my Brother to the Grove that’s neighbour
     To the west Port of th’ City; leave the rest
     To my own practice; I have talk’d too long,
     But now will doe:  this kiss, with my Confession,
     To work a fell revenge:  a man’s a fool,
     If not instructed in a Womans School.

[Exeunt.

     SCENA II.

     Enter Bartolus, Algazeirs, and a Paratour.

     The Table set out and stools.

     Bar.

     You are well enough disguiz’d, furnish the Table,
     Make no shew what ye are, till I discover: 
     Not a soul knows ye here:  be quick and diligent,
     These youths I have invited to a Breakfast,
     But what the Sawce will be, I am of opinion
     I shall take off the edges of their Appetites,
     And grease their gums for eating heartily
     This month or two, they have plaid their prizes with me,
     And with their several flurts they have lighted dangerously,
     But sure I shall be quit:  I hear ’em coming. 
     Go off and wait the bringing in your service,
     And do it handsomely:  you know where to have it.

     Enter Milanes, Arsenio, Lopez, Diego.

     Welcom i’ Faith.

     Ars.

     That’s well said, honest Lawyer.

     Lop.

     Said like a neighbour.

     Bar.

     Welcom all:  all over,
     And let’s be merry.

     Mil.

     To that end we came Sir,
     An hour of freedome’s worth an age of juglings.

     Die.

     I am come too Sir, to specifie my Stomach
     A poor reteiner to your worships bountie.

     Bar.

     And thou shalt have it fill’d my merry Diego,
     My liberal, and my bonny bounteous Diego,
     Even fill’d till it groan again.

     Die.

     Let it have fair play,
     And if it founder then.—­

     Bar.

     I’le tell ye neighbours,
     Though I were angry yesterday with ye all,
     And very angry, for methought ye bob’d me.

     Lop.

     No, no, by no means.

     Bar.

     No, when I considered
     It was a jest, and carried off so quaintly,
     It made me merry:  very merry, Gentlemen,
     I do confess I could not sleep to think on’t,
     The mirth so tickled me, I could not slumber.