HAR. Be not so wilful, prythee: let him lie. HEIGH. Come back, come back; for we are past the house: Yonder's Mathea's chamber with the light. PIS. Well, fare a head, or I had been descried. God's me! what makes the youngsters here so late? I am "a rogue, and spurn him:" well, Jack-sauce, The rogue is waking yet to spoil your sport. [_Aside._ WAL. Mat, Mistress Mathea! where be these girls? _Enter_ MATHEA _alone above_. MAT. Who's there below? WAL. Thy Ned, kind Ned, thine honest trusty Ned. MAT. No, no, it is the Frenchman in his stead, That Monsieur Motleycoat, that can dissemble. Hear you, Frenchman, pack to your whores in France: Though I am Portingal by the father's side, And therefore should be lustful, wanton, light; Yet, good-man Goosecap, I will let you know That I have so much English by the mother, That no base, slavering French shall make me stoop: And so, Sir Dandelion, fare you well. HEIGH. What, speechless? not a word? why, how now, Ned?[533] HAR. The wench hath ta'en him down, he hangs his head. WAL. You Dandelion, you that talk so well, Hark you a word or two, good Mistress Mat: Did you appoint your friends to meet you here, And being come, tell us of whores in France, A Spanish jennet and an English mare, A mongrel, half a dog and half a bitch, With trandido, dildido, and I know not what? Hear you, if you'll run away with Ned, And be content to take me as you find me, Why so--la, I am yours: if otherwise, You'll change your Ned to be a Frenchman's trull! Why then, Madame Delion, je vous laisserai a Dieu et la bonne fortune. MATH. That voice assures me that it is my love. Say truly, art thou my Ned? art thou my love? WAL. 'Swounds! who should I be but Ned? You make me swear. _Enter above_ MARINA. MAR. Who speak you to? Mathea, who's below? HAR. Marina. MAR. Young Master Harvey? for that voice saith so. _Enter_ LAURENTIA. LAUR. Speak, sister Mat, is not my true love there? MATH. Ned is. LAUR. Not Master Heigham? HEIGH. Laurentia! here. LAUR. I' faith, thou art welcome. HEIGH. Better cannot fall. MATH. Sweet, so art thou. MAR. As much to mine. LAUR. Nay, gentles, welcome all. PIS. Here's cunning harlotries! They feed these off With welcome and kind words, whilst other lads Revel in that delight they should possess. Good girls, I promise you, I like you well. [_Aside._ MAR. Say, Master Harvey: saw you, as you came, That lecher, which my sire appoints my man? I mean that wanton, base Italian, That Spanish-leather spruce companion, That antique ape, trick'd up in fashion? Had the ass come, I'd learn him difference been Betwixt an English gentleman and him.