Chapter XX: Act II: Scene I

_A Hall in_ SIR BOUNTEOUS PROGRESS’S _Country House_.

_Enter_ SIR BOUNTEOUS PROGRESS _and two Knights_.

FIRST K. You have been too much like your name, sir
Bounteous.
SIR B. O, not so, good knights, not so; you know my
humour: most welcome, good sir Andrew Pollcut;[757] sir
Aquitain Colewort, most welcome.
BOTH. Thanks, good sir Bounteous.
[_Exeunt at one door._

_At the other door, enter in haste one of_ FOLLYWIT’S
_companions disguised as a Footman_.

FOOT. O, cry your worship heartily mercy, sir!
SIR B. How now, linen stockings and threescore mile
a-day? whose footman art thou?
FOOT. Pray, can your worship tell me—ho, ho, ho!—if my
lord be come in yet.
SIR B. Thy lord! what lord?
FOOT. My lord Owemuch, sir.
SIR B. My lord Owemuch? I have heard much speech of that
lord; has great acquaintance i’ th’ city; that lord has
been much followed.
FOOT. And is still, sir; he wants no company when he’s
in London: he’s free of the mercers, and there’s none of
’em all dare cross him.
SIR B. And[758] they did, he’d turn over a new leaf with
’em; he would make ’em all weary on’t i’ th’ end. Much
fine rumour have I heard of that lord, yet had I never
the fortune to set eye upon him: art sure he will alight
here, footman? I am afraid thou’rt mistook.

FOOT. Thinks your worship so, sir? by your leave, sir.
[_Going._
SIR B. Pooh, passion of me, footman! why, pumps, I say,
come back!
FOOT. Does your worship call?
SIR B. Come hither, I say. I am but afraid on’t; would
it might happen so well! How dost know? did he name the
house with the great turret a’ th’ top?
FOOT. No, faith, did he not, sir. [_Going._
SIR B. Come hither, I say. Did he speak of a
cloth-a’-gold chamber?
FOOT. Not one word, by my troth, sir. [_Going._
SIR B. Come again, you lousy seven-mile-an-hour!
FOOT. I beseech your worship, detain me not.
SIR B. Was there no talk of a fair pair of organs,[759]
a great gilt candlestick, and a pair of silver snuffers?
FOOT. ’Twere sin to belie my lord; I heard no such
words, sir.
[_Going._
SIR B. A pox confine thee! come again, pooh!
FOOT. Your worship will undo me, sir.
SIR B. Was there no speech of a long dining-room, a huge
kitchen, large meat, and a broad dresser-board?
FOOT. I have a greater maw to that indeed, an’t please
your worship.
SIR B. Whom did he name?
FOOT. Why, one sir Bounteous Progress.
SIR B. Ah, a, a! I am that sir Bounteous, you
progressive round-about rascal.
FOOT. Pooh! [_Laughs._[760]
SIR B. I knew I should have him i’ th’ end: there’s not
a lord will miss me, I thank their good honours; ’tis a
fortune laid upon me; they can scent out their best
entertainment. I have a kind of complimental gift given
me above ordinary country knights; and how soon ’tis
smelt out! I warrant ye, there’s not one knight i’ th’
shire able to entertain a lord i’ th’ cue, or a lady i’
th’ nick, like me;—like me! there’s a kind of grace
belongs to’t, a kind of art which naturally slips from
me; I know not on’t, I promise you, ’tis gone before I’m
aware on’t—cuds me, I forget myself—where——

_Enter Servants._

FIRST S. Does your worship call?
SIR B. Run, sirrah! call in my chief gentleman i’ th’
chain of gold;[761] expedite. [_Exit First Servant._]—
And how does my good lord? I never saw him before in my
life.—A cup of bastard[762] for this footman!
FOOT. My lord has travelled this five year, sir.
SIR B. Travelled this five year? how many children has
he?—Some bastard, I say!
FOOT. No bastard, an’t please your worship.
SIR B. A cup of sack to strengthen his wit!—
[_Exit Second Servant, and returns with the wine._

The footman’s a fool.

_Enter_ GUMWATER.

O, come hither, master Gumwater, come hither: send
presently to master Pheasant for one of his hens;
there’s partridge i’ th’ house?
GUM. And wild-duck, an’t please your worship.
SIR B. And woodcock, an’t please thy worship.
GUM. And woodcock, an’t please your worship.—I had
thought to have spoke before you.
SIR B. Remember the pheasant, down with some plover,
clap down six woodcocks; my lord’s[763] coming: now,
sir.
GUM. An’t please your worship, there’s a lord and his
followers newly alighted.
SIR B. Despatch, I say, despatch: why, where’s my music?
he’s come indeed. [_Exit_ GUMWATER.

_Enter_ FOLLYWIT _dressed as a lord, with_ MAWWORM,
HOBOY, _and others, in blue coats_.[764]

FOL. Footman!
FOOT. My lord?
FOL. Run swiftly with my commendations to sir Jasper
Topaz: we’ll ride and visit him i’ th’ morning, say.
FOOT. Your lordship’s charge shall be effected.
[_Exit._
FOL. That courtly, comely form should present to me
Sir Bounteous Progress.
SIR B. You’ve found me out, my lord; I cannot hide
myself:
Your honour is most spaciously welcome.
FOL. In this forgive me, sir,
That being a stranger to your house[765] and you,
I make my way so bold; and presume
Rather upon your kindness than your knowledge;
Only your bounteous disposition
Fame hath divulg’d, and is to me well known.
SIR B. Nay, and your lordship know my disposition, you
know me better than they that know my person; your
honour is so much the welcomer for that.
FOL. Thanks, good sir Bounteous.
SIR B. Pray, pardon me; it has been often my ambition,
my lord, both in respect of your honourable presence,
and the prodigal fame that keeps even stroke with your
unbounded worthiness,
To have wish’d your lordship where your lordship is,
A noble guest in this unworthy seat:
Your lordship ne’er heard my organs?
FOL. Heard of ’em, sir Bounteous, but never heard ’em.
SIR B. They’re but double-gilt, my lord; some hundred
and fifty pound will fit your lordship with such another
pair.[766]
FOL. Indeed, sir Bounteous!
SIR B. O, my lord, I have a present suit to you!
FOL. To me, sir Bounteous? and you could ne’er speak at
fitter time, for I’m here present to grant you.
SIR B. Your lordship has been a traveller?
FOL. Some five year, sir.
SIR B. I have a grandchild, my lord; I love him; and
when I die I’ll do somewhat for him: I’ll tell your
honour the worst of him, a wild lad he has been.
FOL. So we have been all, sir.
SIR B. So we have been all indeed, my lord; I thank your
lordship’s assistance. Some comic pranks he has been
guilty of; but I’ll pawn my credit for him, an honest,
trusty bosom.
FOL. And that’s worth all, sir.
SIR B. And that’s worth all indeed, my lord, for he’s
like to have all when I die: _imberbis juvenis_, his
chin has no more prickles yet than a midwife’s; there’s
great hope of his wit, his hair’s so long a-coming.
Shall I be bold with your honour, to prefer this
aforesaid Ganymede to hold a plate under your lordship’s
cup?
FOL. You wrong both his worth and your bounty, and[767]
you call that boldness. Sir, I have heard much good of
that young gentleman.
SIR B. Nay, has a good wit, i’faith, my lord.
FOL. Has carried himself always generously.
SIR B. Are you advised of that, my lord? has carried
many things cleanly. I’ll shew your lordship my will; I
keep it above in an outlandish box; the whoreson boy
must have all: I love him, yet he shall ne’er find it as
long as I live.
FOL. Well, sir, for your sake, and his own deserving,
I’ll reserve a place for him nearest to my secrets.
SIR B. I understand your good lordship; you’ll make him
your secretary.—My music! give my lord a taste of his
welcome. [_A strain played by the consort_:[768] SIR
BOUNTEOUS _makes a courtly honour to_ FOLLYWIT, _and
seems to foot the tune_.] So.—How like you our airs, my
lord? are they choice?
FOL. They’re seldom matched, believe it.
SIR B. The consort of mine own household.
FOL. Yea, sir!
SIR B. The musicians are in ordinary, yet no ordinary
musicians. Your lordship shall hear my organs now.
FOL. O, I beseech you, sir Bounteous!
SIR B. My organist! [_The organs play, and servants with
covered dishes pass over the stage._]—Come, my lord, how
does your honour relish my organ[s]?
FOL. A very proud air, i’faith, sir.
SIR B. O, how can’t choose? a Walloon plays upon ’em,
and a Welchman blows wind in their breech. [_Exeunt._
[_A song to the organs._[769]

SCENE II.

_A Gallery._

_Enter_ SIR BOUNTEOUS, _with_ FOLLYWIT, MAWWORM, HOBOY,
_and others_.[770]

SIR B. You must pardon us, my lord, hasty cates; your
honour has had even a hunting-meal on’t; and now I am
like to bring your lordship to as mean a lodging; a hard
down bed, i’faith, my lord, poor cambric sheets, and a
cloth a’ tissue canopy; the curtains, indeed, were
wrought in Venice, with the story of the Prodigal Child
in silk and gold; only the swine are left out, my lord,
for[771] spoiling the curtains.
FOL. ’Twas well prevented, sir.
SIR B. Silken rest, harmonious slumbers, and venereal
dreams to your lordship!
FOL. The like to kind sir Bounteous!
SIR B. Fie, not to me, my lord; I’m old, past dreaming
of such vanities.
FOL. Old men should dream best.
SIR B. They’re dreame[r]s indeed, my lord; you’ve gi’nt
us. To-morrow your lordship shall see my cocks, my
fish-ponds, my park, my champion[772] grounds; I keep
champers[773] in my house can shew your lordship some
pleasure.
FOL. Sir Bounteous, you even whelm me with
delights.
SIR B. Once again, a musical night to your honour! I’ll
trouble your lordship no more.
FOL. Good rest, sir Bounteous. [_Exit_ SIR BOUNTEOUS.]—
So, come, the vizards! where be the masking-suits?
MAW. In your lordship’s portmantua.
FOL. Peace, lieutenant.
MAW. I had rather have war, captain.
FOL. Pooh, the plot’s ripe! come, to our business,
lad;
Though guilt condemns, ’tis gilt[774] must make us glad.
MAW. Nay, and[775] you be at your distinctions, captain,
I’ll follow behind no longer.
FOL. Get you before, then, and whelm your nose with your
vizard; go. [_Exit_ MAWWORM.
Now, grandsire, you that hold me at hard meat,
And keep me out at the dag’s end,[776] I’ll fit you:
Under his lordship’s leave, all must be mine
He and his will confesses; what I take, then,
Is but a borrowing of so much beforehand;
I’ll pay him again when he dies in so many blacks;[777]

I’ll have the church hung round with a noble[778] a
yard, or requite him in scutcheons: let him trap me in
gold, and I’ll lap him in lead; _quid pro quo_. I must
look none of his angels[779] in the face, forsooth,
until his face be not worth looking on: tut, lads,

Let sires and grandsires keep us low, we must
Live when they’re flesh, as well as when they’re dust.
[_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_A Room in the Courtesan’s House._

_Enter Courtesan and Servant._

COUR. Go, sirrah, run presently to master Penitent
Brothel; you know his lodging; knock him up; I know he
cannot sleep for sighing;
Tell him, I’ve happily bethought a mean
To make his purpose prosper in each limb,
Which only rests to be approv’d by him:
Make haste, I know he thirsts for’t.
[_Exeunt severally._

SCENE IV.

_A Gallery._

_Enter_ FOLLYWIT _in a masking suit, with a vizard in
his hand_.

[_Within_] Oh!
FOL. Hark! they’re at their business.
[_Within_] Thieves, thieves!
FOL. Gag that gaping rascal! though he be my grandsire’s
chief gentleman i’ th’ chain of gold,[780] I’ll have no
pity of him.

_Enter_ MAWWORM, HOBOY, _and others, vizarded_.

How now, lads?
MAW. All’s sure and safe; on with your vizard, sir; the
servants are all bound.
FOL. There’s one care past then: come, follow me, lads;
I’ll lead you now to th’ point and top of all your
fortunes: yon lodging is my grandsire’s.
MAW. So, so; lead on, on!
HOB. Here’s a captain worth the following, and a wit
worth a man’s love and admiring! [_Exeunt._[781]

SCENE V.

_A Room opening into_ SIR BOUNTEOUS’S _Bed-chamber, from
which enter_ FOLLYWIT, MAWWORM, HOBOY, _and others,
dragging in_ SIR BOUNTEOUS _in his night-gown_.

SIR B. O gentlemen, and[782] you be kind gentlemen,
what countrymen are you?
FOL. Lincolnshire men, sir.
SIR B. I am glad of that, i’faith.
FOL. And why should you be glad of that?
SIR B. O, the honestest thieves of all come out of
Lincolnshire, the kindest-natured gentlemen; they’ll rob
a man with conscience; they have a feeling of what they
go about, and will steal with tears in their eyes: ah,
pitiful gentlemen!
FOL. Push,[783] money, money! we come for money.
SIR B. Is that all you come for? Ah, what a beast was I
to put out my money t’other day! Alas, good gentlemen,
what shift shall I make for you? pray, come again
another time.
FOL. Tut, tut, sir, money!
SIR B. O not so loud, sir! you’re too shrill a
gentleman: I have a lord lies in my house; I would not
for the world his honour should be disquieted.
FOL. Who, my lord Owemuch? we have took order with him
beforehand; he lies bound in his bed, and all his
followers.
SIR B. Who, my lord? bound my lord? Alas, what did you
mean to bind my lord? he could keep his bed well enough
without binding. You’ve undone me in’t already, you need
rob me no farther.
FOL. Which is the key? come!
SIR B. Ah, I perceive now you’re no true Lincolnshire
spirits! you come rather out of Bedfordshire; we cannot
lie quiet in our beds for you. So, take enough, my
masters [_they rifle his cabinets_]: spur a free horse,
my name’s sir Bounteous; a merry world, i’faith; what
knight but I keep open house at midnight? Well, there
should be a conscience, if one could hit upon’t.
FOL. Away now; seize upon him, bind him.
SIR B. Is this your court of equity? why should I be
bound for mine own money? but come, come, bind me, I
have need on’t; I have been too liberal to-night, keep
in my hands [_they bind him_]: nay, as hard as you list;
I am too good to bear my lord company. You have watched
your time, my masters; I was knighted at Westminster,
but many of these nights will make me a knight of
Windsor.[784] You’ve deserved so well, my masters, I bid
you all to dinner to-morrow: I would I might have your
companies, i’faith; I desire no more.
FOL. O, ho, sir!
SIR B. Pray, meddle not with my organs, to put ’em out
of tune.
FOL. O no, here’s better music, sir.
SIR B. Ah, pox feast you!
FOL. Despatch with him, away! [_Exeunt_ HOBOY _and
others, carrying_ SIR BOUNTEOUS _into the
bed-chamber_.]—So, thank you, good grandsire! This was
bounteously done of him, i’faith: it came somewhat hard
from him at first; for, indeed, nothing comes stiff from
an old man but money; and he may well stand upon that,
when he has nothing else to stand upon. Where’s our
portmantua?
MAW. Here, bully captain.
FOL. In with the purchase,[785] ’twill lie safe enough
there under ’s nose, I warrant you.—

_Re-enter_ HOBOY _and others_.

What, is all sure?
HOB. All’s sure, captain.
FOL. You know what follows now, one villain binds
his fellows; go, we must be all bound for our own
securities, rascals. There’s no dallying upo’ th’
point; you conceit me: there is a lord to be found
bound in the morning, and all his followers; can you
pick out that lord now?
MAW. O admirable spirit!
FOL. You ne’er plot for your safeties, so your wants be
satisfied.
HOB. But if we bind one another, how shall the last man
be bound?
FOL. Pox on’t, I’ll have the footman ’scape.
FOOT. That’s I; I thank you, sir.
FOL. The footman, of all other, will be supposed to
’scape, for he comes in no bed all night, but lies in ’s
clothes, to be first ready i’ th’ morning; the horse and
he lie[786] in litter together, that’s the right fashion
of your bonny footman; and his freedom will make the
better for our purpose, for we must have one i’ th’
morning to unbind the knight, that we may have our sport
within ourselves. We now arrive at the most ticklish
point, to rob, and take our ease, to be thieves, and lie
by’t: look to’t, lads, it concerns every man’s gullet;
I’ll not have the jest spoiled, that’s certain, though
it hazard a windpipe. I’ll either go like a lord as I
came, or be hanged like a thief as I am; and that’s my
resolution.
MAW. Troth, a match, captain, of all hands!
[_Exeunt._

SCENE VI.

_A Room in the Courtesan’s House._

_Enter Courtesan meeting_ PENITENT BROTHEL.

COUR. O master Penitent Brothel!
PEN. B. What is’t, sweet lady Gullman, that so seizes on
thee with rapture and admiration?
COUR. A thought, a trick, to make you, sir, especially
happy, and yet I myself a saver by it.
PEN. B. I would embrace that, lady, with such courage,
I would not leave you on the losing hand.
COUR. I will give trust to you, sir. The cause, then,
why I raised you from your bed so soon, wherein I know
sighs would not let you sleep, thus understand it:
You love that woman, master Harebrain’s wife,
Which no invented means can crown with freedom
For your desires and her own wish but this,
Which in my slumbers did present itself.
PEN. B. I’m covetous, lady.
COUR. You know her husband, lingering in suspect,
Locks her from all society but mine.
PEN. B. Most true.
COUR. I only am admitted; yet hitherto that has done you
no real happiness; by my admittance I cannot perform
that deed that should please you, you know: wherefore
thus I’ve conveyed it, I’ll counterfeit a fit of violent
sickness.
PEN. B. Good.
COUR. Nay, ’tis not so good, by my faith, but to do you
good.
PEN. B. And in that sense I called it: but take me with
you, lady;[787] would it be probable enough to have a
sickness so suddenly violent?
COUR. Pooh, all the world knows women are soon down: we
can be sick when we have a mind to’t, catch an ague with
the wind of our fans, surfeit upon the rump of a lark,
and bestow ten pound in physic upon’t: we’re likest
ourselves when we’re down; ’tis the easiest art and
cunning for our sect[788] to counterfeit sick, that are
always full of fits when we are well; for since we were
made for a weak, imperfect creature, we can fit that
best that we are made for. I thus translated, and
yourself slipt into the form of a physician——
PEN. B. I a physician, lady? talk not on’t, I beseech
you; I shall shame the whole college.
COUR. Tut, man, any quacksalving terms will serve for
this purpose; for I am pitifully haunted with a brace of
elder brothers, new perfumed in the first of their
fortunes, and I shall see how forward their purses will
be to the pleasing of my palate, and restoring of my
health. Lay on load enough upon ’em, and spare ’em not,
for they’re good plump fleshly asses, and may well
enough bear it; let gold,[789] amber, and dissolved
pearl, be common ingrediences, and that you cannot
compose a cullice without ’em. Put but this cunningly in
practice, it shall be both a sufficient recompense for
all my pains in your love, and the ready means to make
mistress Harebrain way, by the visiting of me, to your
mutual desired company.
PEN. B. I applaud thee, kiss thee, and will constantly
embrace it. [_Exeunt severally._

SCENE VII.

_A Bed-chamber_: FOLLYWIT, _bound, in bed_.

SIR B. [_within_] Ho, Gumwater!
FOL. Singlestone!
[_Within_] Jenkin, wa, ha, ho!
[_Within_] Ewen!
[_Within_] Simcod!
FOL. Footman! whew!
FOOT. [_within_] O good your worship, let me help your
good old worship!

_Enter_ SIR BOUNTEOUS, _with a cord half unbound, and
Footman,[790] assisting to loose him_.

SIR B. Ah, poor honest footman! how did’st thou ’scape
this massacre?
FOOT. E’en by miracle, and lying in my clothes, sir.
SIR B. I think so; I would I had lain in my clothes too,
footman, so I had ’scaped ’em: I could have but
risse[791] like a beggar then, and so I do now, till
more money come in; but nothing afflicts me so much, my
poor geometrical footman, as that the barbarous villains
should lay violence upon my lord. Ah, the binding of my
lord cuts my heart in two pieces! So, so, ’tis well; I
thank thee: run to thy fellows; undo ’em, undo ’em, undo
’em!
FOOT. Alas, if my lord should miscarry, they’re unbound
already, sir; they have no occupation but sleep, feed,
and fart. [_Exit._
SIR B. If I be not ashamed to look my lord i’ th’ face,
I’m a Saracen.—My lord!
FOL. Who’s that?
SIR B. One may see he has been scared: a pox on ’em for
their labours!
FOL. Singlestone!
SIR B. Singlestone? I’ll ne’er answer to that, i’faith.
FOL. Suchman!
SIR B. Suchman? nor that neither, i’faith; I am not
brought so low, though I be old.
FOL. Who’s that i’ th’ chamber?
SIR B. Good morrow, my lord; ’tis I.
FOL. Sir Bounteous, good morrow; I would give you my
hand, sir, but I cannot come at it. Is this the courtesy
a’ th’ country, sir Bounteous?
SIR B. Your lordship grieves me more than all my loss;
’Tis the unnatural’st sight that can be found,
To see a noble gentleman hard bound.
FOL. Trust me, I thought you had been better beloved,
sir Bounteous; but I see you have enemies, sir, and your
friends fare the worse for ’em. I like your talk better
than your lodging; I ne’er lay harder in a bed of down;
I have had a mad night’s rest on’t. Can you not guess
what they should be, sir Bounteous?
SIR B. Faith, Lincolnshire men, my lord.
FOL. How? fie, fie, believe it not, sir; these lie not
far off, I warrant you.
SIR B. Think you so, my lord?
FOL. I’ll be burnt and[792] they do; some that use
to your house, sir, and are familiar with all the
conveyances.
SIR B. This is the commodity[793] of keeping open house,
my lord; that makes so many shut their doors about
dinner-time.
FOL. They were resolute villains: I made myself known to
’em, told ’em what I was, gave ’em my honourable word
not to disclose ’em—
SIR B. O saucy, unmannerly villains!
FOL. And think you the slaves would trust me upon my
word?
SIR B. They would not?
FOL. Forsooth, no; I must pardon ’em: they told me
lords’ promises were mortal, and commonly die within
half an hour after they are spoken; they were but
gristles, and not one amongst a hundred come to any full
growth or perfection; and therefore, though I were a
lord, I must enter into bond.
SIR B. Insupportable rascals!
FOL. Troth, I’m of that mind. Sir Bounteous, you fared
the worse for my coming hither.
SIR B. Ah, good my lord, but I’m sure your lordship
fared the worse!
FOL. Pray, pity not me, sir.
SIR B. Is not your honour sore about the brawn of the
arm? a murrain meet ’em, I feel it!
FOL. About this place, sir Bounteous?
SIR B. You feel as it were a twinge, my lord?
FOL. Ay, e’en a twinge, you say right.
SIR B. A pox discover ’em, that twinge I feel too!
FOL. But that which disturbs me most, sir Bounteous,
lies here.
SIR B. True; about the wrist, a kind of tumid numbness.
FOL. You say true, sir.
SIR B. The reason of that, my lord, is, the pulses had
no play.
FOL. Mass, so I guessed it.
SIR B. A mischief swell ’em, for I feel that too!

_Enter_ MAWWORM.

MAW. ’Slid, here’s a house haunted indeed!
SIR B. A word with you, sir.
FOL. How now, Singlestone?
MAW. I’m sorry, my lord, your lordship has lost——
SIR B. Pup, pup, pup, pup, pup!
FOL. What have I lost? speak.
SIR B. A good night’s sleep, say.
FOL. Speak, what have I lost, I say?
MAW. A good night’s sleep, my lord, nothing else.
FOL. That’s true; my clothes, come.
MAW. My lord’s clothes! his honour’s rising.

_Enter_[794] HOBOY _and others with clothes: they retire
to_ FOLLYWIT, _behind the curtains, which are drawn_.
SIR B. Hist, well said: come hither; what has my lord
lost? tell me, speak softly.
MAW. His lordship must know that, sir.
SIR B. Hush! prithee tell me.
MAW. ’Twill do you no pleasure to know’t, sir.
SIR B. Yet again? I desire it, I say.
MAW. Since your worship will needs know’t, they have
stolen away a jewel in a blue silk ribband of a hundred
pound price, beside some hundred pounds in fair
spur-royals.[795]
SIR B. That’s some two hundred i’ th’ total.
MAW. Your worship’s much about it, sir.
SIR B. Come, follow me; I’ll make that whole again in so
much money; let not my lord know on’t.
MAW. O pardon me, sir Bounteous! that were a dishonour
to my lord: should it come to his ear, I should hazard
my undoing by it.
SIR B. How should it come to his ear? if you be my
lord’s chief man about him, I hope you do not use to
speak unless you be paid for’t; and I had rather give
you a counsellor’s double fee to hold your peace. Come,
go to; follow me, I say.
MAW. There will be scarce time to tell it, sir; my lord
will away instantly.
SIR B. His honour shall stay dinner, by his leave; I’ll
prevail with him so far: and now I remember a jest, I
bade the whoreson thieves to dinner last night; I would
I might have their companies; a pox poison ’em!
[_Exit._
MAW. Faith, and you are like to have no other
guess,[796] sir Bounteous, if you have none but us; I’ll
give you that gift, i’faith. [_Exit._[797]