_Come away, thou Lady gay,_ _Hoist; how she stumbles!_ _Hark how she mumbles._ _Dame_ Gillian. _Answer. I come, I come._ _By old Claret I enlarge thee,_ _By Canary thus I charge thee,_ _By_ Britain, _Mathewglin, and Peeter,_ _Appear and answer me in meeter._ _Why when?_ _Why_ Gill? _Why when?_ _Answer. You'll tarry till I am ready._ _Once again I conjure thee,_ _By the Pose in thy Nose,_ _And the Gout in thy Toes;_ _By thine old dryed Skin,_ _And the Mummie within;_ _By thy little, little Ruff,_ _And thy Hood that's made of Stuff;_ _By thy Bottle at thy Breech,_ _And thine old salt Itch;_ _By the Stakes, and the Stones,_ _That have worn out thy Bones._ _Appear._ _Appear._ _Appear._ _Answer. Oh I am here._ _Fred._ Peace, he conjures. _John._ Why, this is the Song, _Frederick_; twenty pound now, To see but our _Don Gillian_. _Enter Land-lady and the Child._ _Fred._ Peace, it appears. _John._ I cannot peace; Devils in French hoods, _Frederick_? Satans old Syringes? _Duke._ What's this? _Vec._ Peace. _John._ She, Boy. _Fred._ What dost thou mean? _John._ She, Boy, I say. _Fred._ Ha? _John._ She Boy, The very Child too, _Frederick_. _Fred._ She laughs on us Aloud, _John_, has the Devil these affections? I do believe 'tis she, indeed. _Vec._ Stand still. _John._ I will not; Who calls _Jeronimo_ from his naked Bed? Sweet Lady, was it you? if thou beest the Devil, First, having crost my self, to keep out wildfire, Then said some special Prayers to defend me Against thy most unhallowed Hood, have at thee. _Land._ Hold, Sir, I am no Devil. _John._ That's all one. _Land._ I am your very Landlady. _John._ I defie thee; Thus as St. _Dunstan_ blew the Devil's Nose With a pair of tongs, even so, Right Worshipful-- _Land._ Sweet Son, I am old _Gillian_. _Duke._ This is no Spirit. _John._ Art thou old _Gillian_, flesh and bone? _Land._ I am, Son. _Vec._ Sit still, Sir, now I'll shew you all. [_Ex._ Vec. _John._ Where's thy Bottle? _Land._ Here, I beseech ye, Son-- _John._ For I know the Devil Cannot assume that shape. _Fred._ 'Tis she, _John_, certain-- _John._ A hogs pox o' your mouldy chaps, what makes you Tumbling and juggling here?