+Sim.+ This was your bargain upon the exchange, sir, and because you have ever been addicted to old proverbs and pithy saws, pray let me seal up the mistake with one that will appear very seasonably. +Blood.+ And I pray let's hear it, sir. +Sim.+ You, a new-fangled fowler, came to show your art i' th' dark; but take this truth, you catched in truth a cuckoo for't. _Enter +Tim+ and +Sue+._ +Blood.+ Heyday, we are cheated by the rule, i' faith. Now, sirrah, they say you are to be married too. +Tim.+ Yes, indeed, father, I am going to the business; and, gentlemen all, I am come, whether you will or no, to invite you all to my marriage to this gentlewoman who, though a good face needs no mask, she's masked, to make a man think she has a scurvy face, when I know she has a good face. This is sack to them, and out of their element. +Blood.+ But, sirrah, setting aside marriages, where's my hundred marks you went to receive? +Tim.+ Hum!--upon such a match of mine, talk of a hundred marks! this is to drink ignoble four-shillings beer. A hundred marks! why your lawyer there can clear such a trifle in a term, and his clients ne'er the better. +Blood.+ Such a match! I pray discover her; what is she? +Tim.+ What is she! here's my brother knows what she is well enough. Come hither, Dab, and be it known unto you, her name is Lindabrides, descended from the Emperor Trebatio of Greece, and half-niece, some six-and-fifty descents, to the most unvanquished Clarindiana. +Alex.+ Who's this? Pox on't! what makes that bawd yonder? [_Unmasks her._ +Con.+ I am very much deceived if I did not send this gentlewoman very drunk t'other night to the Compter. +Tim.+ I tell thee, prattling constable, 'tis a lie: Lindabrides a drunkard! +Alex.+ Harkee, brother, where lies her living? +Tim.+ Where? why, in Greece. +Alex.+ In grease. +Sim.+ She looks as if she had sold kitchen-stuff. +Alex.+ This is a common whore, and you a cheated coxcomb. Come hither, you rotten hospital, hung round with greasy satin; do not you know this vermin? +Mis. Coote.+ I winked at you, Sue, and you could have seen me: there's one Jarvis, a rope on him, h' has juggled me into the suds too. +Con.+ Now I know her name too: do not you pass under the name of Sue Shortheels, minion? +Sue.+ Go look, Master Littlewit. Will not any woman thrust herself upon a good fortune when it is offered her? +Blood.+ Sir Marmaduke, you are a justice of peace; I charge you in the king's name, you and Master Ambidexter, to assist me with the whore and the bawd to Bridewell. +Sir Mar.+ By my troth, we will, and we shall have an excellent stomach by that time dinner's ready.