STRANGE. As true a rogue as thyself. Thou wrong'st me. Send your man away: go to, I have strange and welcome business to impart. The merchant is dead for shame: let's walk into the fields: send away your man. CAPT. POUTS. How? STRANGE. Here is a letter from the lusty Kate, That tells you all: I must not give it you, But upon some conditions. Let us walk, And send away your man. CAPT. POUTS. Go, sirrah, and bespeak supper at the Bear, and provide oars: I'll see Gravesend to-night. [_Exit_ SERVANT. STRANGE. The gentlewoman will run mad after you then. I'll tell you more: let's walk. [_Exeunt._ FOOTNOTES: [34] This remark, and a question below, in the old copy are given to Luce; but Lucida is not upon the stage, and could not be there, as Scudmore afterwards enters, pretending to be the bearer of a letter from her. The name of _Nevill_ has been substituted for Luce, and at least there is no impropriety in assigning what is said to him. Two other speeches, attributed to her, obviously belong to Sir Abraham. [35] The exclamations of the bowlers, whom Sir Abraham has just quitted. [36] [Addressing Cupid.] [37] The French phrase is _avaler le bonnet_, _i.e._, to lower the bonnet. The etymology of _avaler_ is disputed; but our _vale_, or as it is usually spelt, _vail_, is from _avaler_. [38] This was probably a hit at the sort of "_worsted_ conceits" in plays represented at the old Newington theatre, which appears at one time to have been under the management of Philip Henslowe. [39] There is a blank in this line in the old copy. Sir Abraham seems as fastidious as most versifiers, and it will be observed, that in reading over his "sonnet" he makes a variety of alterations. Perhaps the blank was left to show that he could not fill it up to his satisfaction, not liking the line as it stood, when he first committed it to paper-- "Ty _unto thee_, pity both him and it." [40] Alluding to the _bauble_ or truncheon, usually with a head carved at the top of it, part of the _insignia_ of the ancient licensed fool or jester. [41] Should we not read "is the death on us," or "of us?" [42] This is one out of innumerable hits, in our old dramatists, at the indiscriminate creation of knights by James I. Their poverty was a constant subject of laughter. See Ben Jonson's "Alchemist," act ii.; Chapman's "Monsieur d'Olive," act i., and "Widows' Tears," act iv.; Barry's "Ram Alley," act i.; and Middleton's "Mad World, my Masters," act i., &c. Field's satire is as pungent as that of the best of them. ACT IV., SCENE I. _Enter_ SCUDMORE _and_ NEVILL. I see great'st spirits[43] can serve to their own ends. Were you the seeming servingman that pass'd by? SCUD. By my sad heart, I was; and not a tittle Of my relation to thee wrong or feign'd.