Mrs Brain. I will put on my vizor-mask, however, for more security. [Noise.] Hark!  I hear him. [Goes in.

  Enter BRAINSICK.

Brain. What, in a musty musing, monsieur Woodall!  Let me enter into the affair.

Wood. You may guess it, by the post I have taken up.

Brain. O, at the door of the damsel Tricksy! your business is known by your abode; as the posture of a porter before a gate, denotes to what family he belongs. [Looks in.] It is an assignation, I see; for yonder she stands, with her back toward me, drest up for the duel, with all the ornaments of the east.  Now for the judges of the field, to divide the sun and wind betwixt the combatants, and a tearing trumpeter to sound the charge.

Wood. It is a private quarrel, to be decided without seconds; and therefore you would do me a favour to withdraw.

Brain. Your Limberham is nearer than you imagine:  I left him almost entering at the door.

Wood. Plague of all impertinent cuckolds! they are ever troublesome to us honest lovers:  so intruding!

Brain. They are indeed, where their company is not desired.

Wood. Sure he has some tutelar devil to guard his brows! just when she had bobbed him, and made an errand home, to come to me!

Brain. It is unconscionably done of him.  But you shall not adjourn your love for this:  the Brainsick has an ascendant over him; I am your guarantee; he is doomed a cuckold, in disdain of destiny.

Wood. What mean you?

Brain. To stand before the door with my brandished blade, and defend the entrance:  He dies upon the point, if he approaches.

Wood. If I durst trust it, it is heroic.

Brain. It is the office of a friend:  I will do it.

Wood. [Aside.] Should he know hereafter his wife were here, he would think I had enjoyed her, though I had not; it is best venturing for something.  He takes pains enough, on conscience, for his cuckoldom; and, by my troth, has earned it fairly.—­But, may a man venture upon your promise?

Brain. Bars of brass, and doors of adamant, could not more secure you.

Wood. I know it; but still gentle means are best:  You may come to force at last.  Perhaps you may wheedle him away:  it is but drawing a trope or two upon him.

Brain. He shall have it, with all the artillery of eloquence.

Wood. Ay, ay; your figure breaks no bones.  With your good leave.—­
          
                                                 [Goes in.

Brain. Thou hast it, boy.  Turn to him, madam; to her Woodall:  and St George for merry England. Tan ta ra ra ra, ra ra!  Dub, a dub, dub; Tan ta ra ra ra.

Enter LIMBERHAM.