WHIT. No, fait, captain, dough tou beesht a vishe man, dy vit is a mile hence now. I vas procuring a shmall courtesie for a woman of fashion here. MRS. OVER. Yes, captain, though I am a justice of peace's wife, I do love men of war, and the sons of the sword, when they come before my husband. KNOCK. Say'st thou so, filly? thou shalt have a leap presently, I'll horse thee myself, else. URS. [_within._] Come, will you bring her in now, and let her take her turn? WHIT. Gramercy, good Ursh, I tank de. MRS. OVER. Master Overdo shall thank her. [_Exit._ _Re-enter URSULA, followed by LITTLEWIT, and MRS. LITTLEWIT._ LIT. Good ga'mere Urse, Win and I are exceedingly beholden to you, and to captain Jordan, and captain Whit.--Win, I'll be bold to leave you, in this good company, Win; for half an hour or so, Win; while I go and see how my matter goes forward, and if the puppets be perfect; and then I'll come and fetch you, Win. MRS. LIT. Will you leave me alone with two men, John? LIT. Ay, they are honest gentlemen, Win, captain Jordan and captain Whit; they'll use you very civilly, Win. God be wi' you, Win. [_Exit._ URS. What, is her husband gone? KNOCK. On his false gallop, Urse, away. URS. An you be right Bartholomew birds, now show yourselves so: we are undone for want of fowl in the Fair, here. Here will be Zekiel Edgworth, and three or four gallants with him at night, and I have neither plover nor quail for them: persuade this between you two, to become a bird o' the game, while I work the velvet woman within, as you call her. KNOCK. I conceive thee, Urse: go thy ways. [_Exit Ursula._]--Dost thou hear, Whit? is't not pity, my delicate dark chestnut here, with the fine lean head, large forehead, round eyes, even mouth, sharp ears, long neck, thin crest, close withers, plain back, deep sides, short fillets, and full flanks; with a round belly, a plump buttock, large thighs, knit knees, strait legs, short pasterns, smooth hoofs, and short heels, should lead a dull honest woman's life, that might live the life of a lady? WHIT. Yes, by my fait and trot it is, captain; de honest woman's life is a scurvy dull life indeed, la. MRS. LIT. How, sir, is an honest woman's life a scurvy life? WHIT. Yes fait, shweet-heart, believe him, de leef of a bond-woman! but if dou vilt hearken to me, I vill make tee a free woman and a lady; dou shalt live like a lady, as te captain saish. KNOCK. Ay, and be honest too sometimes; have her wires and her tires, her green gowns and velvet petticoats. WHIT. Ay, and ride to Ware and Rumford in dy coash, shee de players, be in love vit 'em: sup vit gallantsh, be drunk, and cost de noting. KNOCK. Brave vapours! WHIT. And lie by twenty on 'em, if dou pleash, shweet-heart. MRS. LIT. What, and be honest still! that were fine sport. WHIT. Tish common, shweet-heart, tou may'st do it by my hand: it shall be justified to thy husband's faish, now: tou shalt be as honesht as the skin between his hornsh, la.