_Enter_ Roger.
_Roger._ Sir, my Ladies pleasure is to see you: who hath commanded me to
acknowledge her sorrow, that you must take the pains to come up for so bad
entertainment.
_Wel._ I shall obey your Lady that sent it, and acknowledge you that
brought it to be your Arts Master.
_Rog._ I am but a Batchelor of Art, Sir; and I have the mending of all
under this roof, from my Lady on her down-bed, to the maid in the
Pease-straw.
_Wel._ A Cobler, Sir?
_Roger._ No Sir, I inculcate Divine Service within these Walls.
_Wel._ But the Inhabitants of this house do often imploy you on errands
without any scruple of Conscience.
_Rog._ Yes, I do take the air many mornings on foot, three or four miles
for eggs: but why move you that?
_Wel._ To know whether it might become your function to bid my man to
neglect his horse a little to attend on me.
_Roger._ Most properly Sir.
_Wel._ I pray you doe so then: the whilst I will attend your Lady. You
direct all this house in the true way?
_Roger._ I doe Sir.
_Wel._ And this door I hope conducts to your Lady?
_Rog._ Your understanding is ingenious. [_Ex. severally._
_Enter young_ Loveless _and_ Savil, _with a writing._
_Sa._ By your favour Sir, you shall pardon me?
_Yo.
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