Part 6 (2/2)

_Poet_. 'Tis but a snuffe, make it two gallons, and let him doe it kneeling in repentance.

_Savil_. Nay rather kill me, there's but a lay-man lost. Good Captain doe your office.

_Young Lo_. Thou shalt drink Steward, drink and dance my Steward. Strike him a horn-pipe squeakers, take thy striver, and pace her till she stew.

_Savil_. Sure Sir, I cannot dance with your Gentlewomen, they are too light for me, pray break my head, and let me goe.

_Capt_. He shall dance, he shall dance.

_Young Lo_. He shall dance, and drink, and be drunk and dance, and be drunk again, and shall see no meat in a year.

_Poet._ And three quarters?

_Young Lo._ And three quarters be it.

_Capt._ Who knocks there? let him in.

_Enter_ Elder Loveless _disguised._

_Savill._ Some to deliver me I hope.

_Elder Lo._ Gentlemen, G.o.d save you all, my business is to one Master _Loveless_?

_Capt._ This is the Gentleman you mean; view him, and take his Inventorie, he's a right one.

_Elder Lo._ He promises no less Sir.

_Young Lo._ Sir, your business?

_Elder Lo._ Sir, I should let you know, yet I am loth, yet I am sworn to't, would some other tongue would speak it for me.

_Young Lo._ Out with it i' G.o.ds name.

_Elder Lo._ All I desire Sir is, the patience and sufferance of a man, and good Sir be not mov'd more.

_Young Lo._ Then a pottle of sack will doe, here's my hand, prethee thy business?

_Elder Lo._ Good Sir excuse me, and whatsoever you hear, think must have been known unto you, and be your self discreet, and bear it n.o.bly.

_Young Lo._ Prethee dispatch me.

_Elder Lo._ Your Brother's dead Sir.

_Young Lo._ Thou dost not mean dead drunk?

_Elder Lo._ No, no, dead and drown'd at sea Sir.

_Young Lo._ Art sure he's dead?

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