_Jaq._ He cannot last, I pity the poor man, I suffer for him; two Coaches of young City dames, And they drive as the Devil were in the wheels, Are ready now to enter: and behind these An old dead-palsied Lady in a Litter, And she makes all the haste she can: the man's lost, You may gather up his dry bones to make Nine-pins, But for his flesh. _Sulp._ These are but easie labours Yet, for I know he must have rest. _Ja._ He must--you'll beat him off his legs else presently. _Sul._ Go in, and bid him please himself, I am pleas'd too: To morrow's a new day; but if he can I would have him take pity o' the old Lady. Alas 'tis charity. _Jaq._ I'le tell him all this, And if he be not too fool-hardy. _Enter_ Zabulon. _Sulp._ How now? What news with you? _Zab._ You must presently Shew all the art you have, and for my Lady. _Sulp._ She may command. _Zab._ You must not dream nor trifle. _Sulp._ Which way? _Zab._ A spell you must prepare, a powerful one, Peruse but these directions, you shall find all; There is the picture too, be quick, and faithful, And do it with that strength--when 'tis perform'd, Pitch your reward at what you please, you have it. _Sul._ I'le do my best, and suddenly: but hark ye, Will you never lye at home again? _Zab._ Excuse me, I have too much business yet. _Sulp._ I am right glad on't. _Zab._ Think on your business, so farewel. _Sulp._ I'le do it. _Zab._ Within this hour I'le visit you again And give you greater lights. _Sulp._ I shall observe ye; This brings a brave reward, bravely I'le do it, And all the hidden art I have, express in't. [_Exeunt at both doors._ _Enter_ Rutilio _with a Night-cap._ _Rut._ Now do I look as if I were Crow-trodden, Fye, how my hams shrink under me! O me, I am broken-winded too; is this a life? Is this the recreation I have aim'd at? I had a body once, a handsome body, And wholesome too. Now I appear like a rascal, That had been hung a year or two in Gibbets. Fye how I faint! women? keep me from women; Place me before a Cannon, 'tis a pleasure; Stretch me upon a Rack, a recreation; But women? women? O the Devil! women? _Curtius_ Gulf was never half so dangerous. Is there no way to find the Trap-door again, And fall into the Cellar, and be taken? No lucky fortune to direct me that way? No Gallies to be got, nor yet no Gallows? For I fear nothing now, no earthly thing But these unsatisfied Men-leeches, women. How devilishly my bones ake! O the old Lady! I have a kind of waiting-woman lyes cross my back too, O how she stings! no treason to deliver me? Now what are you? do you mock me? _Enter_ 3. _with Night-caps very faintly._ _1_ No Sir, no; We were your Predecessors in this place. _2_ And come to see you bear up. _Rut._ Good Gentlemen; You seem to have a snuffing in your head Sir, A parlous snuffing, but this same dampish air-- _2_ A dampish air indeed.