_Buz_. I know not; may be ever since we were borne, for your father used to come home to my mother, & why may not I be a chipp of the same blocke out of which you two were cutt? Mothers are sure of their children, but no man is able to sweare who was his father. _Hen_. You are very lusty. _Buz_. I eate eringoes[31] and potchd eggs last night. _Hen_. Goe & call him. _Buz_. What? _Hen_. You hound, is he up? _Buz_. No, he's in Bed, and yet he may be up too; Ile goe see. _Hen_. Stay, and speake low.--How now? [_Buz. falls downe_. _Buz_. I can speake no lower unlesse I creepe into the Cellar. _Hen_. I'me glad you are so merry, sir. _Buz_. So am I; my heart is a fiddle; the strings are rozend with ioy that my other young Mr. is come home, & my tongue the sticke that makes the fiddle squeake. _Hen_. Come hither, leave your fooling & tell me truely: didst sleepe to night or no? _Buz_. Sleepe? Not that I remember: Ile sweare (& my eyes should come out as 2 witnesses) that I nere slept worse; for what with ycur _Spanish_ flyes (the pocky, stinging musquitoes) & what with your skip Jacke fleas, the nap of my sleepe was worne off. _Hen_. Didst heare nothing? _Buz_. Not in my sleepe. _Hen_. Collect thy sences; when thou wert awake didst thou heare nothing? _Buz_. Nothing. _Hen_. Twixt 12 & one? _Buz_. 12 & one? Then was I in my dead sleepe, cursing the fleas. _Hen_. Or about one & two. _Buz_. That's Three:--Now the Beetle[32] of my head beates it into my memory that as you & your brother _Manuell_ lay in the high Bed, & I trondling[33] underneath, I heard one of you talke most stigmatically in his sleepe--most horriferously. _Hen_. Right, now thou com'st to me,--so did I. _Buz_. And then once or twice the sleepy voice cryde out, "Oh it was I that murthered him! this hand killd him!" _Hen_. Art sure thou heardst this? _Buz_. Am I sure these are my eares? _Hen_. And dar'st thou sweare thou heardst it? _Buz_. Lay downe 20 oathes, and see if Ile not take them. _Hen_. And whose voice was it did appeare to thee? _Buz_. Whose voice was it? Well said, yong Master! make an asse of your fathers man! _Hen_. Come, come, be serious: whose voice? _Buz_. Whose voice? why then, if your windpipe were slitt now and opend, there should the voice be found. I durst at midnight be sworne that the Ghost of your voice appeard before me. _Hen_. No; me it frighted too; up stood my haire stiffe & on end. _Buz_. As a Catts does at sight of a dog. _Hen_. A cold sweat pearld in dropps all ore my body; For 'twas my Brothers voice, & were I calld Before a thousand Judges I must sweare It could be no mans els. _Buz_. Why, then, I must sweare so, too. _Hen_. "Oh it was I that murthered him! this hand killed him!" [_Within, Man_] _Buzzano_! _Hen_. He's up. [_Man_.] _Buzzano_! _Buz_. I come. _Hen_. Helpe to make him ready,[34] but not a word on thy life. _Buz_. Mum. [_Exit_.