SCENE III.

Clor. Ha, ha, ha, pray let me laugh extreamly. Fra. Why? prethee why? hast thou such cause? Clor. Yes faith, my Brother will be here straightway, and— Fra. What? Clor. The other party: ha, ha, ha. Fra. What party? Wench thou art not drunk? Clor. No faith. Fra. Faith thou hast been among the bottles Clora. Clor. Faith but I have not Frank: Prethee be handsom, The Captain comes along too, wench. Fra. O is that it That tickles ye? Clor. Yes, and shall tickle you too, You understand me? Fran. By my troth thou art grown A strange lewd wench: I must e'ne leave thy company, Thou wilt spoil me else. Clor. Nay, thou art spoil'd to my hand; Hadst thou been free, as a good wench ought to be, When I went first a birding for thy Love, And roundly said, that is the man must do it, I had done laughing many an hour agoe. Fra. And what dost thou see in him, now thou knowst him To be thus laught at? Clor. Prethee be not angry And I'le speak freely to thee. Fran. Do, I will not. Clor. Then as I hope to have a handsom husband, This fellow in mine eye, (and Frank I am held To have a shrewd ghess at a pretty fellow) Appears a strange thing. Fra. Why, how strange for Gods sake? He is a man, and one that may content (For any thing I see) a right good woman: And sure I am not blind. Clor. There lyes the question? For, (but you say he is a man, and I Will credit you,) I should as soon have thought him Another of Gods creatures; out upon him, His body, that can promise nothing But laziness and long strides. Fra. These are your eyes; Where were they Clora, when you fell in love With the old foot-man, for singing of Queen Dido? And swore he look'd in his old velvet trunks And his slic't Spanish Jerkin, like Don John? You had a parlous judgment then, my Clora. Clora. Who told you that? Fran. I heard it. Clora. Come, be friends, The Souldier is a Mars, no more, we are all Subject to slide away. Fra. Nay, laugh on still. Clor. No faith, thou art a good wench, and 'tis pity Thou shouldst not be well quarried at thy entring, Thou art so high flown for him: Look, who's there?

Jac. Prethee go single, what should I do there? Thou knowst I hate these visitations, As I hate peace or perry. Fab. Wilt thou never Make a right man? Jac. You make a right fool of me To lead me up and down to visit women, And be abus'd and laugh'd at; let me sta[rv]e If I know what to say, unless I ask 'em What their shooes cost? Fab. Fye upon thee, coward, Canst thou not sing? Jac. Thou knowest I can sing nothing But Plumpton park. Fab. Thou't be bold enough, When thou art enter'd once. Jac. I had rather enter A breach: if I miscarry, by this hand I will have you by th' ears for't. Fab. Save ye Ladies. Clo. Sweet Brother I dare swear, you're welcom hither, So is your Friend. Fab. Come, blush not, but salute 'em. Fra. Good Sir believe your Sister; you are most welcom, So is this worthy Gentleman whose vertues I shall be proud to be acquainted with. Jac. She has found me out already, and has paid me; Shall we be going? Fab. Peace; Your goodness Lady Will ever be afore us, for my self I will not thank you single, lest I leave My friend, this Gentleman, out of acquaintance. Jac. More of me yet? Fra. Would I were able, Sir, From either of your worths to merit thanks. Clor. But Brother, is your friend thus sad still? methinks 'Tis an unseemly nature in a Souldier. Jac. What hath she to do with me, or my behaviour? Fab. He do's but shew so, prethee to him Sister. Jac. If I do not break thy head, I am no Christian, If I get off once. Clor. Sir, we must intreat you To think your self more welcom, and be merry, 'Tis pity a fair man of your proportion Should have a soul of sorrow. Jac. Very well; Pray Gentlewoman what would you have me say? Clora. Do not you know, Sir? Jac. Not so well as you That talk continually. Fran. You have hit her, Sir. Clora. I thank him, so he has, Fair fall his sweet face for't. Jac. Let my face Alone, I would wish you, lest I take occasion To bring a worse in question. Clora. Meaning mine? Brother, where was your friend brought up? h'as sure Been a great lover in his youth of pottage, They lye so dull upon his understanding. Fab. No more of that, thou'lt anger him at heart. Clo. Then let him be more manly, for he looks Like a great School-boy that had been blown up Last night at dust-point. Fran. You will never leave Till you be told how rude you are, fye Clora. Sir will it please you sit? Clora. And I'le sit by you. Jac. Woman be quiet, and be rul'd I would wish you. Clora. I have done, Sir Captain. Fab. Art thou not asham'd? Jac. You are an asse, I'le tell you more anon, You had better have been hang'd than brought me hither. Fab. You are grown a sullen fool; either be handsom, Or by this light I'le have wenches bait thee; Go to the Gentlewoman, and give her thanks, And hold your head up; what? Jac. By this light I'le brain thee. Fra. Now o' my faith this Gentleman do's nothing But it becomes him rarely; Clora, look How well this little anger, if it be one, Shews in his face. Clo. Yes, it shews very sweetly. Fra. Nay do not blush Sir, o' my troth it does, I would be ever angry to be thus. Fabritio, o' my conscience if I ever Do fall in love, as I will not forswear it Till I am something wiser, it must be, I will not say directly with that face, But certainly, such another as that is, And thus dispose my chance to hamper me. Fab. Dost thou hear this, and stand still? Jac. You will prate still; I would you were not women, I would take A new course with ye. Clora. Why couragious? Jac. For making me a stone to whet your tongues on. Clora. Prethee sweet Captain. Jac. Go, go spin, go hang. Clo. Now could I kiss him. Jac. If you long for kicking, You'r best come kiss me, do not though, I'de wish ye, I'le send my Foot-man to thee, he shall leap thee, And thou wantst horsing: I'le leave ye Ladies. Fra. Beshrew my heart you are unmannerly To offer this unto a Gentleman Of his deserts, that comes so worthily To visit me, I cannot take it well. Jac. I come to visit you, you foolish woman? Fra. I thought you did Sir, and for that I thank you, I would be loth to lose those thanks; I know This is but some odd way you have, and faith It do's become you well to make us merry; I have heard often of your pleasant vein. Fab. What wouldst thou ask more? Jac. Pray thou scurvy fellow Thou hast not long to live; adieu dear Damsels, You filthy women farewel, and be sober, And keep your chambers. Clor. Farewel old Don Diego. Fra. Away, away, you must not [be so] angry, To part thus roughly from us; yet to me This do's not shew, as if it were yours, the wars May breed men something plain I know, But not thus rude; give me your hand good Sir I know 'tis white, and— Jac. If I were not patient, What would become of you two prating houswives? Clo. For any thing I know, we would in to supper, And there begin a health of lusty Claret To keep care from our hearts, and it should be— Fab. Faith to whom? Mark but this Jacomo. Clo. Even to the handsomest fellow now alive. Fab. Do you know such a one? Fra. He may be ghest at, Without much travel. Fab. There's another item. Clor. And he should be a Souldier. Fra. 'Twould be better. Clor. And yet not you sweet Captain. Fra. Why not he? Jac. Well; I shall live to see your husbands beat you, And hiss 'em on like ban-dogs. Clora. Ha, ha, ha. Jac. Green sicknesses and serving-men light on ye With greasy Codpieces, and woollen stockings, The Devil (if he dare deal with two women) Be of your counsels: farewel Plaisterers— [Exit Jac. Clora. This fellow will be mad at Mid-summer Without all doubt. Fab. I think so too. Fra. I am sorry, He's gone in such a rage; but sure this holds him Not every day. Fab. 'Faith every other day If he come near a woman. Clor. I wonder how his mother could endure To have him in her Belly, he's so boysterous. Fra. He's to be made more tractable I doubt not. Clo. Yes, if they taw him as they do whit-leather Upon an iron, or beat him soft like Stock-fish.