_Hostis_. No: what newes? _City W_. No, I warrant ye, you never come abroad; this is to be troubled with a fatte man, he never comes abroad himself nor suffers his wife out of his sight: yee shall ever have a fatte Host either on his bench at the dore or in his chair at the chimney; & there he spits and spaules a roome like twentie Tobacco-takers. Oh! fye on them, beasts! _Hostis_. I prethee, what newes? _Citty w_. Oh! woman, the most hardfavoured newes, and without all conscience: they say theres a statute made, any woman that buries her husband is not to marrie againe of two monthes after. _Hostis_. A tedious time, by Lady; a month were enough. _Cittie w_. I, halfe a month; winter nights are long and colde. Ile tell ye, I have buried sixe, and thank my good fortune I ever knewe the next ere the other was in his winding sheete. _Pre_. Mistris, my maister is angrie, and the Guests cal for their Hostesse. _Hostis_. Goe, I come: Gossip, when shall I see you agen? _Citty w_. Nay, when shall I see you abroad? sildome, i'me sure. _Hostis_. I must needes away; God buy you, Gossip. _Cittie w_. God buy ye; Gods so, I have forgot wherefore I came: a word ere you goe, the party yee wott on commends him unto ye, he that met the other party in the white felt, the yellow scarf, and the round _Venetian_,[246] when the other party kis't you, and I broake the jest on him, when hee said kisses kindeles Coules and love searches. _Hostis_. Oh! I remember him, yes faith, hee's prettie well set; hee ha's the right trick with the tongue in his kisse, and hee dances reasonably comely, but he fals heavie. _Citty w_. He savours of a kinde of Gallant, but not of a Courtyer. _Hostis_. Well weele have a night out, god be with ye, Gossip. _Cittie wife_. God buy ye. [_Exeunt_. [ACT THE SECOND. _Scene 1_.] _Enter Lentulus and Tulley_. _Lentu_. Not yours nor her owne, _Terentia_.--Yours in modestie, _Flavia_. See, _Tulley_, what an active passive love hath plaide; I love and am again beloved, but at the shrine Where I do offer up my Cordiall sacrifice, I am returnd with peremptorie scorne; And where I stand but as a gazer, viewing All alike, I am pursude With violent passions, a speaking eye Bindes favours and now discovering lines.[247] Thy counsell now, deere friend; for at thy direction Stands my thrall or freedome. _Tul_. Oh my Lord, affection is unlimited, Daring all dangers, having no tipe nor figure, Beyond all arte. Then tye not that (Great Lord,) to _Tullies_ awe; Fancy forswears all reason, love all lawe.