Mer. As long as you will, Sir, before I buy a bargain of such Runts, I’le buy a Colledge for Bears, and live among ’em.

Enter Francisco, Lance, Boy with a Torch.

Fran. How dost thou now?

Lan. Better than I was, and straighter, but my head’s a Hogshead still, it rowls and tumbles.

Fran. Thou wert cruelly paid.

Lan. I may live to requite it, put a Snaffle of Sack in my mouth and then ride me very well.

Fran. ’Twas all but sport, I’le tell thee what I mean now, I mean to see this Wench.

Lan. Where a Devil is she? and there were two, ’twere better.

Fran. Dost thou hear the Bell ring?

Lan. Yes, yes.

Fran. Then she comes to prayers, early each morning thither:  Now if I could but meet her, for I am of another mettle now.

Enter Isabel, and Shorthose with a Torch.

Lan. What light’s yon?

Fran. Ha, ’tis a light, take her by the hand and court her.

Lan. Take her below the girdle, you’l never speed else, it comes on this way still, oh that I had but such an opportunity in a Saw-pit, how it comes on, comes on! ’tis here.

Fran. ’Tis she:  fortune I kiss thy hand—­Good morrow Lady.

Isa. What voice is that, Sirra, do you sleep as you go, ’tis he, I am glad on’t.  Why, Shorthose?

Short. Yes forsooth, I was dreamt, I was going to Church.

Lan. She sees you as plain as I do.

Isab. Hold the torch up.

Short. Here’s nothing but a stall, and a Butcher’s Dog asleep in’t, where did you see the voice?

Fran. She looks still angry.

Lan. To her and meet Sir.

Isab. Here, here.

Fran. Yes Lady, never bless your self, I am but a man, and like an honest man, now I will thank you—­

Isab. What do you mean, who sent for you, who desired you?

Short. Shall I put out the Torch forsooth?

Isab. Can I not go about my private meditations, Ha, but such companions as you must ruffle me? you had best go with me Sir?

Fran. ’Twas my purpose.

Isab. Why, what an impudence is this! you had best, being so near the Church, provide a Priest, and perswade me to marry you.

Fran. It was my meaning, and such a husband, so loving, and so carefull, my youth, and all my fortunes shall arrive at—­Hark you?

Isab. ’Tis strange you should be thus unmannerly, turn home again sirra, you had best now force my man to lead your way.

Lan. Yes marry shall he Lady, forward my friend.

Isab. This is a pretty Riot, it may grow to a rape.

Fran. Do you like that better?  I can ravish you an hundred times, and never hurt you.