CAPT. Why do you not hang out a painted cloth, and take twopence apiece, and let in all the tame fools at door--those sons of wonder that now gape, and think you mad?[250] CARE. 'Tis no matter what they think: madness is proper here. Are not taverns Bacchus's temples, the place of madness? Does not the sign of madness hang out at the door? JOLLY.----while we within possess our joys and cups, as full of pleasure as weeping Niobe's afflicted eyes were swelled with grief and tears! Blessing on the cause that made our joys thus complete: for see Plutus in our pockets, Mars by our sides, Bacchus in our heads, self-love in our hearts, and change of virgins in our arms; beauties whose eyes and hearts speak love and welcome; no rigid thinkers, no niggard beauties, that maliciously rake up their fire in green sickness to preserve a spark, that shall flame only in some dull day of marriage: let such swear and forswear, till (of the whole parish) they love each other least, whilst we wisely set out our cobwebs in the most perspicuous places to catch these foolish flies. CARE. He's in the right. Dost think we retreated hither to beat a bargain for a score of sheep, or dispute the legality of votes and weigh the power of prerogative and parliament, and club for concluding sack, or read the Fathers here, till we grow costive, like those that have worn their suffering elbows bare, to find a knowledge to perplex 'em? A pox on such brain-breaking thoughts! avoid them, and take me into my[251] hand a glass of eternal sack, and prophesy the restoration of senses and the fall of a lover from grace; which our dear friend Master Jolly will prove to whom the Lady Loveall (by Faithful lately departed) sent for the pearl you wot of. CAPT. But I hope he had the grace to keep them. JOLLY. No, no; I'm a fool, I! CAPT. Was not my boy here? JOLLY. No, we saw him not. CAPT. A pox of the rogue! he's grown so lazy. WILD. Your boy is come in just now, and called for the key of the back-door. There's women with him. CAPT. O, that's well! 'tis Wanton: I sent for her to laugh over the story of the old lady and her pearl. _Enter_ BOY. Where have you been all this while, sirrah? BOY. I could overtake the coach, sir, no sooner. CAPT. The coach! what coach? BOY. The Lady Loveall's. CAPT. The Lady Loveall's! Why, what had you to do with her coach? BOY. I went to give her the letter your worship sent her. CAPT. The letter! What letter? BOY. That your worship gave me. CAPT. That I writ at Ned's house to Wanton? BOY. The letter you gave me, sir, was directed to the Lady Loveall, and she stormed like a mad woman at reading of it. [_The_ CAPTAIN _threatens to beat him_. CARE. Why, thou wilt not beat the boy for thy own fault? What letter was it? CAPT. 'Twas enough; only a relation of the pearl, wherein she finds herself sufficiently abused to Wanton. JOLLY. Now, gentlemen, you have two to laugh at.