Lan. I think he’s her servant, or I am couzen’d else, I am sure on’t.

Fran. I am glad on’t.

Lan. She’s a good Woman.

Fran. I am gladder.

Lan. And young enough believe.

Fran. I am gladder of all, Sir.

Val. Frank, you shall lye with me soon.

Fran. I thank my money.

Lan. His money shall lie with me, three in a Bed, Sir, will be too much this weather.

Val. Meet me at the Mermaid, and thou shalt see what things—­

Lan. Trust to your self Sir. [Exeunt Fran. and Val.

Enter Fount.  Bella. and Valentine.

Fount. O Valentine!

Val. How now, why do you look so?

Bella. The Widow’s going, man.

Val. Why let her go, man.

Hare. She’s going out o’th’ Town.

Val. The Town’s the happier, I would they were all gone.

Fount. We cannot come to speak with her.

Val. Not to speak to her?

Bel. She will be gone within this hour, either now Val.

Fount. Hare. Now, now, now, good Val.

Val. I had rather march i’th’ mouth o’th’ Cannon, but adiew, if she be above ground, go, away to your prayers, away I say, away, she shall be spoken withall. [Exeunt.

Enter Shorthose with one boot on, Roger,_and_ Humphrey.

Rog. She will go, Shorthose.

Short. Who can help it Roger?

Raph. [within.] Help down with the hangings.

Rog. By and by Raph. I am making up o’th’ trunks here.

Raph. Shorthose.

Short. Well.

Raph. Who looks to my Ladys wardrobe? Humphrey.

Hum. Here.

Raph. Down with the boxes in the gallery, and bring away the Coach cushions.

Short. Will it not rain, no conjuring abroad, nor no devices to stop this journey?

Rog. Why go now, why now, why o’th’ sudden now? what preparation, what horses have we ready, what provision laid in i’th’ Country?

Hum. Not an egge I hope.

Rog. No nor one drop of good drink boyes, there’s the devil.

Short. I heartily pray the malt be musty, and then we must come up again.

Hum. What sayes the Steward?

Rog. He’s at’s wits end, for some four hours since, out of his haste and providence, he mistook the Millars mangie mare, for his own nagge.

Short. And she may break his neck, and save the journy.  Oh London how I love thee!

Hum. I have no boots nor none I’le buy:  or if I had, refuse me if I would venture my ability, before a Cloak-Bag, men are men.