_Pip._ What now? Did not I yester-morning Bring you in a Cardecu there from the Peasant, Whose ass I had driven aside, and hid, that you Might conjure for him? and then last night, Six Soulz from the Cooks wife, you shar'd among you To set a figure for the Pestle I stole, It is not at home yet; these things, my Masters, In a hard time, they would be thought on: you Talk of your lands and Castles in the air, Of your twelve houses there: but it is I That bring you in your rents for 'em, 'tis _Pippeau_ That is your bird-call. _Nor._ Faith he does well, And cuts through the Elements for us, I must needs say In a fine dextrous line. _Fis._ But not as he did At first, then he would sail with any wind Int' every Creek and Corner. _Pip._ I was light then, New built and rigg'd when I came to you, Gentlemen, But now with often and far venturing for you Here be leaks sprung, and whole Planks wanting see you; If you'l new sheath me again, yet I am for you To any bog or sleights, where e're you'l send me, For as I am, where can this ragged Bark Put in for any service; 'less it be O'th' Isle of Rogues, and there turn Pirate for you. _Nor._ Faith he says reason, Fryer, you must leave Your neat crisp Claret, and fall to your Cyder A while; and you _la Fiske_, your larded Capons And Turkys for a time, and take a good Clean Tripe in your way; _de Bube_ too must content him with wholsom two souz'd petitoes, no more Crown Ordinaries, till we have cloath'd our Infant. _Bub._ So you'l keep Your own good motions, Doctor, your dear self. _Fis._ Yes, for we all do know the Latitude Of your Concupiscence. _Rus._ Here about your belly. _Bub._ You'l pick a bottle open or a whimsey, As soon as the best of us. _Fis._ And dip your wrist-bands, (For Cuffs y'have none) as comely in the sauce [_The Bell rings._ As any Courtier--hark, the Bell, who is there? _Rus._ Good luck I do conjure thee; Boy look out. _Pip._ They are Gallants, courtiers, one of 'em is [_Exit and enter again._ Of the Dukes bed-chamber. _Rus._ _Latorch_, down, On with your gown, there's a new suite arriv'd, [_To Norbret._ Did I not tell you, Sons of hunger? Crowns, Crowns are coming toward you, wine and wenches You shall have once again, and Fidlers: Into your studyes close; each lay his ear To his door, and as you hear me to prepare you So come, and put me on that visard only. _Enter_ Latorch, Hamond. _Lat._ You'l not be far hence Captain, when the Business is done you shall receive present dispatch. _Ham._ I'le walk Sir, in the Cloyster. [_Exit._ _Rus._ Monsieur _Latorch_; my Son, The Stars are happy still that guide you hither.