_Abig_. I'le not indure this Ribauldry; farewel i'th' Devils name; if my
Lady die, I'le be sworn before a Jury, thou art the cause on't.
_Elder Lo_. Do Maukin do, deliver to your Lady from me this: I mean to see
her, if I have no other business: which before I'le want to come to her, I
mean to go seek birds nests: yet I may come too: but if I come, from this
door till I see her, will I think how to rail vildly at her; how to vex
her, and make her cry so much, that the Physician if she fall sick upon't,
shall find the cause to be want of Urine, and she remediless dye in her
Heresie: Farewell old Adage, I hope to see the Boys make Potguns on thee.
_Abig_. Th'art a vile man, God bless my issue from thee.
_Elder Lo_. Thou hast but one, and that's in thy left crupper, that makes
thee hobble so; you must be ground i'th' breach like a Top, you'I ne're
spin well else: Farewell Fytchock. [_Exeunt_.
_Enter_ Lady _alone_.
_Lady_. Is it not strange that every womans will should track out new
wayes to disturb her self? if I should call my reason to account, it
cannot answer why I keep my self from mine own wish, and stop the man I
love from his; and every hour repent again, yet still go on: I know 'tis
like a man, that wants his natural sleep, and growing dull would gladly
give the remnant of his life for two hours rest; yet through his
frowardness, will rather choose to watch another man, drowsie as he, than
take his own repose.
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