_Gan_. Yes, _Didier_. When was it dated, trow? Torment! synce my restraynt of libertie! Good gentyll patyence manadge me a whyle, Let me collect. Certaynlye _Rychards_ harte Coulde not but doubte thys charrackter, & in The strengthe of doute he came to me last nyghte To be resolvd; or ells why should he beare Suche daunger in hys pockett? Admyttinge thys, What followes then? Why, if that were the ende Of's vysytatyon, then it needs must followe That thys prevayld not with hym. And what then? Why, then my syster, as all weomen ells, Seeinge her selfe neglected in her lust, Thought any ill way to obtayne it just. _Did_. A strange presumptyon. _Gan_. Yet a lyttill further. It is resolvd that my systers onlye ende Was to enjoy _Rychard_ unlawfullye: Howe might a fallinge out twyxt hym & me Assyst the ende (for such a thynge she causd)? How? What a dull slave am I! why twas as muche As the untyinge of hys codpeyce poynte, Almost the _rem in re_! for whyle he stoode Constant to my dyrectyons all was well, But, those abandond, then,--harte! I am madd: I pray thee, _Diddier_, helpe me to cursse Me & my rashnes, that so curbd my reason I would not heare hym speake but put hym strayght To everlastynge sylence. _Did_. No, my lorde, Letts cursse the lust of woman. _Gan_. Well rememberd. _Did_. And yet there is a heavye one prepard To meete them where they act it in the darke. _Gan_. True, _Didier_, there is so, and from that May penytence want power to rescue theym. _Did_. Be there a dearthe of arte to helpe complexion, And for theym many housses of correctyon. _Gan_. And if it be possyble o let the Bedle Not with theire money but hys owne whypp medle, And lashe theym soundlye. _Did_. No, thats not so good: May all theire soundnes tourne toth poxes foode. _Gan_. May constables to cadges[102] styll comend theym And theire knowne foes, age & ill cloathes attend theym. _Did_. May they want skyll to banyshe theire breathes stynke, And onlye Barbers potyons be their drynke. May theire sore wast theire lynnen into lynte For medlinge with other stones then flynte. _Gan_. And to conclude thys hartylie breathd cursse; Theire lives beinge monstrous, let theire ends be worsse. _Did_. Amen. _Enter Gabriella_. _Gab_. Amen to what? _Did_. Faythe, madam, a was prayinge for hys syster. _Gan_. O you are wellcome.--Worthye frend, withdrawe.-- [_Exit Didier_. Nowe my rare pollytycke syster, what will please you? _Gab_. My rare ingenyous brother, why doe you aske? _Gan_. Ile tell thee, woman, & observe it well, Thou shalt remayne the porest wretche alyve, The most forsaken of delight & pleasure That ever breathd a myserable life, If I may knowe what pleasses you. Beware And answere wiselye: you are leaveinge nowe All that hathe tyckld your insatyatt bloode, When you resolve my questyon: I will strypp Your sweete contents of to the naked soule Before you parte. Doe you laughe? by heaven I will.