an hundred pounds between him and me?  Now does my heart go pit-a-pat, for fear I should not find the money there:  I would fain lift it up to see, and yet I am so afraid of missing:  Yet a plague, why should I fear he’ll fail me; the name of a friend’s a sacred thing; sure he’ll consider that.  Methinks, this hat looks as if it should have something under it:  If one could see the yellow boys peeping underneath the brims now:  Ha! [Looks under round about.] In my conscience I think I do.  Stand out o’the way, sirrah, and be ready to gather up the pieces, that will flush out of the hat as I take it up.

Boy.  What, is my master mad, trow?

[LOVEBY snatches up the hat, looks in it hastily, and sees nothing but the paper.

Low.  Now, the devil take the devil!  A plague! was ever man served so as I am! [Throws his hat upon the ground.] To break the bands of amity for one hundred pieces!  Well, it shall be more out of thy way than thou imaginest, devil:  I’ll turn parson, and be at open defiance with thee:  I’ll lay the wickedness of all people upon thee, though thou art never so innocent; I’ll convert thy bawds and whores; I’ll Hector thy gamesters, that they shall not dare to swear, curse, or bubble; nay, I’ll set thee out so, that thy very usurers and aldermen shall fear to have to do with thee.

[A noise within of ISABELLA and FRANCES.

Enter FRANCES, thrusting back ISABELLA and TIMOROUS.

Franc.  How now, what’s the matter?

Isa.  Nay, sweet mistress, be not so hard-hearted; all I desire of you is but harbour for a minute:  you cannot, in humanity, deny that small succour to a gentlewoman.

Franc.  A gentlewoman!  I thought so; my house, affords no harbour for gentlewomen:  you are a company of proud harlotries:  I’ll teach you to take place of tradesmen’s wives, with a wannion to you.

Lov.  How’s this!  Madam Isabella!

Isa.  Mr Loveby! how happy am I to meet with you in my distress!

Lov.  What’s the matter, madam?

Isa.  I’ll tell you, if this gentlewoman will give me leave.

Franc.  No, gentlewoman, I will not give you leave; they are such as we maintain your pride, as they say. [ISABELLA and LOVEBY whisper.] Our husbands trust you, and you must go before their wives.  I am sure my good-man never goes to any of your lodgings, but he comes home the worse for it, as they say.

Lov.  Is that all? pr’ythee, good landlady, for my sake entertain my friends.

Franc.  If the gentleman’s worship had come alone, it may be I might have entertained him; but for your minion!

Enter NONSUCH, FAILER, BURR, and Officers.  Cry within, Here, here.

Fail.  My lord, arrest Sir Timorous upon a promise of marriage to your daughter, and we’ll witness it.