+Blood.+ Better pull't out than halter stretch it. Away, out of my doors! rogue, I defy thee. +Alex.+ Must you be my mother-in-law? +Wid.+ So your father says, sir. +Alex.+ You see the worst of your eldest son; I abuse nobody. +Blood.+ The rogue will fall upon her. +Alex.+ I will tell you an old saw. +Wid.+ Pray let's hear it. +Alex.+ _An old man is a bedful of bones, And who can it deny? By whom (umph)[15] a young wench lies and groans For better company._ +Blood.+ Did you ever hear such a rascal? Come, come, let's leave him: I'll go buy thy wedding-ring presently. You're best be gone, sirrah: I am going for the constable--ay, and one of the churchwardens; and, now I think on't, he shall pay five shillings to the poor for being drunk: twelve pence shall go into the box, and t'other four my partner and I will share betwixt us. There's a new path to thrift, wench; we must live, we must live, girl. +Wid.+ And at last die for all together. [_Exeunt +Bloodhound+, +Widow+, +Maid+, and +Man+._ +Sim.+ 'Tis a diamond.[16] [_Aside._ +Tim.+ You'll be at the Fountain[17] after dinner? +Alex.+ While 'twill run, boy. +Tim.+ Here's a noble now, and I'll bring you t'other as I come by to the tavern; but I'll make you swear I shall drink nothing but small beer. +Alex.+ Niggers-noggers, thou shalt not; there's thine own oath for thee: thou shalt eat nothing, an' thou wilt, but a poached spider, and drive it down with syrup of toads. [_Exit._ +Tim.+ Ah! prythee, Sim, bid the maid eat my breakfast herself. [_Exit._ +Sim.+ H' has turned his stomach, for all the world like a Puritan's at the sight of a surplice.[18] But your breakfast shall be devoured by a stomach of a stronger constitution, I warrant you. [_Exit._ _Enter +Captain Carvegut+ and +Lieutenant Bottom+._[19] +Capt.+ No game abroad this morning? This Coxcomb park,[20] I think, be past the best: I have known the time the bottom 'twixt those hills has been better fledged. +Lieut.+ Look out, Captain, there's matter of employment at foot o' th' hill. +Capt.+ A business? +Lieut.+ Yes, and hopeful. There's a morning bird, his flight, it seems, for London: he halloos and sings sweetly: prythee, let's go and put him out of tune. +Capt.+ Thee and I have crotchets in our pates; and thou knowest two crotchets make one quaver;[21] he shall shake for't. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Randall+._ +Ran.+