+Wid.+ I thank you, sir. +Alex.+ Some wine. +Jar.+ Here is wine for you, sir. +Ran.+ Randalls will not be outpraved, I warrant hur. +Alex.+ Here, widow. +Wid.+ I thank you too, sir. +Ran.+ Sounds, some metheglins here. +Wid.+ What does he call for? +Jar.+ Here are some eggs for you, sir. +Ran.+ Eggs, man! some metheglins, the wine of Wales. +Jar.+ Troth, sir, here's none i' th' house: pray, make a virtue of necessity, and drink to her in this glass of claret. +Ran.+ Well, because hur will make a great deals of necessities of virtues, mark, with what a grace Randalls will drink to hur mistress. +Maid.+ He makes at you, forsooth. +Wid.+ Let him come, I have ever an English virtue to put by a Welsh. +Ran.+ O noble widows, hur heart was full of woes. +Alex.+ No, noble Welshman, hur heart was in hur hose. [_Takes away his cup._ +Ran.+ Sounds, was that hur manners, to take away Randall's cups? +Anc.+ No, it showed scurvy. +Alex.+ Take't you at worst, then. +Anc.+ Whelp of the devil, thou shalt see thy sire[44] for't. +John+, +Jar.+ Gentlemen, what mean you? +Ran.+ Let hur come, let hur come; Randalls will redeem reputations, hur warrant hur. +Wid.+ Redeem your wit, sir. First for you, sir, you are a stranger; but you--fie, Master Bloodhound! +Anc.+ Ha! Bloodhound! good sir, let me speak with you. +Ran.+ Sounds, what does Randalls amongst ploodhounds? Good widows, lend hur an ear. +Alex.+ Ancient Young! how false our memories have played through long discontinuance![45] But why met here, man? Is Mars so bad a paymaster that our ancients fight under Cupid's banner? +Anc.+ Faith, this was but a sudden start, begotten from distraction of some fortunes: I pursue this widow but for want of wiser work. +Jar.+ The Welshman labours at it. [_Aside._ +Ran.+ A pair of a hundred of seeps, thirty prave cows, and twelve dozen of runts. +Wid.+ Twelve dozen of goose! +Ran.+ Give hur but another hark! +Alex.+ He has the mortgage still, and I have a handsome sister: do but meet at the Fountain in Fleet Street after dinner; O, I will read thee a history of happiness, and thou shalt thank me. +Anc.+ Ay, read, all's well or weapons. +Alex.+ A word, Jarvis. [_Whispers him._ +Ran.+ O prave widows, hur will meet hur there, hur knows hur times and hur seasons, hur warrant hur. Randalls will make these prave gallants hang hurselfs in those garters of willow-garlands apout hur pates; mark hur now, and remember. [_Exit._ +Anc.+ Adieu, sweet widow; for my ordinary---- [_Kisses her._ +Wid.+ 'Twas not so much worth, sir.