_Wel_. I, it does so Sir, and me especially to ask Sir, why you wear a
Night-cap.
_Rog_. Assuredly I will speak the truth unto you: you shall understand
Sir, that my head is broken, and by whom; even by that visible beast the
Butler.
_Wel_. The Butler? certainly he had all his drink about him when he did
it. Strike one of your grave Cassock? The offence Sir?
_Rog_. Reproving him at Tra-trip Sir, for swearing; you have the total
surely.
_Wel_. You told him when his rage was set a tilt, and so he crackt your
Canons. I hope he has not hurt your gentle reading: But shall we see these
Gentlewomen to night.
_Rog_. Have patience Sir until our fellow _Nicholas_ be deceast, that is,
asleep: for so the word is taken: to sleep to dye, to dye to sleep, a very
figure Sir.
_Wel_. Cannot you cast another for the Gentlewomen?
_Rog_. Not till the man be in his bed, his grave: his grave, his bed: the
very same again Sir. Our Comick Poet gives the reason sweetly; _Plenus
rimarum est_, he is full of loope-holes, and will discover to our
Patroness.
_Wel_. Your comment Sir has made me understand you.
_Enter_ Martha _the_ Ladies _Sister_, _and_ Younglove, _to them with a
Posset_.
_Rog_. Sir be addrest, the graces do salute you with the full bowl of
plenty.
Pages:
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32