What have we here a brace of Greyhounds broke loose from their masters:  it must needs be so, for they have both their Collers and slippes about their neckes.  Now I looke better upon them, me thinks I should know them, and so I do:  these are Mr. Robinsons dogges, that dwels some two miles off, i’le take them up, and lead them home to their master; it may be something in my way, for he is as liberall a gentleman, as any is in our countrie, Come Hector, come.  Now if I c’ud but start a Hare by the way, kill her, and carry her home to my supper, I should thinke I had made a better afternoones worke of it than gathering of bullies.  Come poore curres along with me.

Exit.”

* * * * *

“Enter Boy with the Greyhounds.

A Hare, a Hare, halloe, halloe, the Divell take these curres, will they not stir, halloe, halloe, there, there, there, what are they growne so lither and so lazie?  Are Mr. Robinsons dogges turn’d tykes with a wanion? the Hare is yet in sight, halloe, halloe, mary hang you for a couple of mungrils (if you were worth hanging,) and have you serv’d me thus? nay then ile serve you with the like sauce, you shall to the next bush, there will I tie you, and use you like a couple of curs as you are, and though not lash you, yet lash you whilest my switch will hold, nay since you have left your speed, ile see if I can put spirit into you, and put you in remembrance what halloe, halloe meanes.

As he beats them, there appeared before him Gooddy Dickison, and the Boy upon the dogs, going in.

Now blesse me heaven, one of the Greyhounds turn’d into a woman, the other into a boy!  The lad I never saw before, but her I know well; it is my gammer Dickison.

G.  Dick. Sirah, you have serv’d me well to swindge me thus.  You yong rogue, you have vs’d me like a dog.

Boy. When you had put your self into a dogs skin, I pray how c’ud I help it; but gammer are not you a Witch? if you bee, I beg upon my knees you will not hurt me.

Dickis. Stand up my boie, for thou shalt have no harme, Be silent, speake of nothing thou hast seene.  And here’s a shilling for thee.

Boy. Ile have none of your money, gammer, because you are a Witch; and now she is out of her foure leg’d shape, ile see if with my two legs I can out-run her.

Dickis. Nay sirra, though you be yong, and I old, you are not so nimble, nor I so lame, but I can overtake you.

Boy. But Gammer what do you meane to do with me Now you have me?

Dickis. To hugge thee, stroke thee, and embrace thee thus, And teach thee twentie thousand prety things, So thou tell no tales; and boy this night Thou must along with me to a brave feast.

Boy. Not I gammer indeed la, I dare not stay out late, My father is a fell man, and if I bee out long, will both chide and beat me.