Part 8 (1/2)

_Si._ Do but this one thing, on my knees I beg it, Stay but two hours till I return again.

For I will to her, tell her all your merits, Your most unvalu'd love, and last your danger; If she relent, then live still, and live loving, Happy, and high in favour: if she frown--

_Mem._ Shall I be sure to know it?

_Si._ As I live, Sir, My quick return shall either bring ye fortune, Or leave you to your own fate.

_Mem._ Two hours?

_Si._ Yes, Sir.

_Mem._ Let it be kept, away, I will expect it. [_Ex._ Mem. Si.

_Enter_ Chilax, _Fool and Boy_.

_Chi._ You dainty wits! two of ye to a Cater, To cheat him of a dinner?

_Boy._ Ten at Court, Sir, Are few enough, they are as wise as we are.

_Chi._ Hang ye, I'le eat at any time, and any where, I never make that part of want, preach to me What ye can do, and when ye list.

_Fool._ Your patience, 'Tis a hard day at Court, a fish day.

_Chi._ So it seems, Sir, The fins grow out of thy face.

_Fool._ And to purchase This day the company of one dear Custard, Or a mess of Rice ap _Thomas_, needs a main wit; Beef we can bear before us lined with Brewes And tubs of Pork; vociferating Veals, And Tongues that ne're told lye yet.

_Chi._ Line thy mouth with 'em.

_Fool._ Thou hast need, and great need, For these finny fish-dayes, The Officers understandings are so flegmatick, They cannot apprehend us.

_Chi._ That's great pity, For you deserve it, and being apprehended The whip to boot; Boy what do you so near me?

I dare not trust your touch Boy.

_Enter_ Stremon _and his Boy_.

_Boy._ As I am vertuous, What, thieves amongst our selves?

_Chi._ _Stremon._

_Stre._ Lieutenant.

_Chi._ Welcome a sh.o.r.e, a sh.o.r.e.

_Fool._ What _Mounsieur Musick_?

_Stre._ My fine Fool.

_Boy._ Fellow _Crack_, why what a consort Are we now blest withal?

_Fool._ Fooling and fidling, Nay and we live not now boys; what new songs, Sirra?