old Charnico is, nor no Anchoves, nor Master such-a-one, to meet at the Rose, and bring my Lady, such-a-ones chief Chamber-maid.

Isab. No bouncing healths to this brave Lad, dear Shorthose, nor down o'th' knees to that illustrious Lady.

Luce. No fiddles, nor no lusty noise of drawer, carry this pottle to my Father Shorthose.

Isab. No plays, nor gaily foists, no strange Embassadors to run and wonder at, till thou beest oyl, and then come home again, and lye byth' Legend.

Luc. Say she should go.

Short. If I say, I'le be hang'd, or if I thought she would go.

Luce. What?

Short. I would go with her.

Luce. But Shorthose, where thy heart is?

Isab. Do not fright him.

Luce. By this hand Mistris 'tis a noise, a loud one too, and from her own mouth, presently to be gone too, but why, or to what end?

Short. May not a man die first? she'l give him so much time.

Isab. Gone o'th' sudden? thou dost but jest, she must not mock the Gentlemen.

Luce. She has put them off a month, th[e]y dare not see her, believe me Mistris, what I hear I tell you.

Isab. Is this true, wench? gone on so short a warning! what trick is this? she never told me of it, it must not be, sirra, attend me presently, you know I have been a carefull friend unto you, attend me in the Hall, and next be faithful, cry not, we shall not go.

Short. Her Coach may crack.

Enter Valentine, Francisco, and Lance.

Val. Which way to live! how darest thou come to town, to ask such an idle question?

Fran. Me thinks 'tis necessary, unless you could restore that Annuitie you have tipled up in Taverns.

Val. Where hast thou been, and how brought up Francisco, that thou talkest thus out of France? thou wert a pretty fellow, and of a handsom knowledge; who has spoiled thee?

Lan. He that has spoil'd himself, to make him sport, and by Copie, will spoil all comes near him: buy but a Glass, if you be yet so wealthy, and look there who?

Val. Well said, old Copihold.

Lan. My heart's good Freehold Sir, and so you'l find it, this Gentleman's your Brother, your hopeful Brother, for there is no hope of you, use him thereafter.

Val. E'ne as well as I use my self, what would'st thou have Frank?

Fran. Can you procure me a hundred pound?

Lan. Hark what he saies to you, O try your wits, they say you are excellent at it, for your Land has lain long bedrid, and unsensible.

Fran. And I'le forget all wrongs, you see my state, and to what wretchedness your will has brought me; but what it may be, by this benefit, if timely done, and like a noble Brother, both you and I may feel, and to our comforts.

Val. (A hundred pound!) dost thou know what thou hast said Boy?

Fran. I said a hundred pound.

Val. Thou hast said more than any man can justifie, believe it: procure a hundred pounds! I say to thee there's no such sum in nature, forty shillings there may be now i'th' Mint and that's a Treasure, I have seen five pound, but let me tell it, and 'tis as wonderful as Calves with five Legs; here's five shillings, Frank, the harvest of five weeks, and a good crop too, take it, and pay thy first fruits, I'le come down and eat it out.

Fran. 'Tis patience must meet with you Sir, not love.

Lanc. Deal roundly, and leave these fiddle faddles.

Val. Leave thy prating, thou thinkest thou art a notable wise fellow, thou and thy rotten Sparrow Hawk; two of the reverent.

Lanc. I think you are mad, or if you be not, will be, with the next moon, what would you have him do?

Val. How?

Lanc. To get money first, that's to live, you have shewed him how to want.

Val. 'Slife how do I live? why, what dull fool would ask that question? three hundred three pilds more, I and live bravely: the better half o'th' Town live most gloriously, and ask them what states they have, or what Annuities, or when they pray for seasonable Harvests: thou hast a handsome Wit, stir into the world, Frank, stir, stir for shame, thou art a pretty Scholar: ask how to live? write, write, write any thing, the World's a fine believing World, write News.

Lan. Dragons in Sussex, Sir, or fiery Battels seen in the Air at Aspurge.

Val. There's the way Frank, and in the tail of these, fright me the Kingdom with a sharp Prognostication, that shall scowr them, Dearth upon Dearth, like leven Taffaties, predictions of Sea-breaches, Wars, and want of Herrings on our Coast, with bloudy Noses.

Lan. Whirl-winds, that shall take off the top of Grantham Steeple, and clap it on Pauls, and after these, a Lenvoy to the City for their sins.

Val. Probatum est, thou canst not want a pension, go switch me up a Covey of young Scholars, there's twenty nobles, and two loads of Coals, are not these ready wayes? Cosmography thou art deeply read in, draw me a Map from the Mermaid, I mean a midnight Map to scape the Watches, and such long sensless examinations, and Gentlemen shall feed thee, right good Gentlemen, I cannot stay long.

Lan. You have read learnedly, and would you have him follow these Megera's, did you begin with Ballads?

Fran. Well, I will leave you, I see my wants are grown ridiculous, yours may be so, I will not curse you neither; you may think, when these wanton fits are over, who bred me, and who ruined me, look to your self, Sir, a providence I wait on.

Val. Thou art passionate, hast thou been brought up with Girls?

Enter Shorthose with a bag.

Short. Rest you merry, Gentlemen.

Val. Not so merry as you suppose, Sir.

Short. Pray stay a while, and let me take a view of you, I may put my Spoon into the wrong Pottage-pot else.

Val. Why, wilt thou muster us?

Short. No, you are not he, you are a thought too handsome.

Lan. Who wouldst thou speak withal, why dost thou peep so?

Short. I am looking birds nests, I can find none in your bush beard, I would speak with you, black Gentleman.

Fran. With me, my friend?

Short. Yes sure, and the best friend, Sir, it seems you spake withal this twelve-month, Gentleman, there's money for you.

Val. How?

Short. There's none for you, Sir, be not so brief, not a penny; law how he itches at it, stand off, you stir my colour.

Lan. Take it, 'tis money.

Short. You are too quick too, first be sure you have it, you seem to be a Faulkoner, but a foolish one.

Lan. Take it, and say nothing.

Short. You are cozen'd too, 'tis take it, and spend it.

Fran. From whom came it, Sir?

Short. Such another word, and you shall have none on't.

Fran. I thank you, Sir, I doubly thank you.

Short. Well, Sir, then buy you better Cloaths, and get your Hat drest, and your Laundress to wash your Boots white.

Fran. Pray stay Sir, may you not be mistaken.

Short. I think I am, give me the money again, come quick, quick, quick.

Fran. I would be loth to render, till I am sure it be so.

Short. Hark in your ear, is not your name Francisco?

Fran. Yes.

Short. Be quiet then, it may Thunder a hundred times, before such stones fall: do you not need it?

Fran. Yes.