_Alice._ Yes, and will not lose him, Unless he leap into the Moon, believe that, And then she'l scramble too; young wenches loves Are like the course of quartans, they may shift And seem to cease sometimes, and yet we see The least distemper pulls 'em back again, And seats 'em in their old course; fear her not, Unless he be a Devil. _Mary._ Now Heaven bless me. _Dor._ What has he writ? _Mary._ Out, out upon him. _Dor._ Ha, what has the mad man done? _Mary._ Worse, worse, and worse still. _Alice._ Some Northern Toy, a little broad. _Mary._ Still fouler! Hey, hey Boys, goodness keep me; Oh. _Dor._ What ail ye? _Mary._ Here, take your Spell again, it burns my fingers. Was ever Lover writ so sweet a Letter? So elegant a style? pray look upon't; The rarest inventory of rank Oaths That ever Cut-purse cast. _Alice._ What a mad Boy is this! _Mary._ Only i'th' bottom A little Julip gently sprinkled over To cool his mouth, lest it break out in blisters, Indeed law. Yours for ever. _Dor._ I am sorry. _Mar._ You shall be welcome to me, come when you please, And ever may command me vertuously, But for your Brother, you must pardon me, Till I am of his nature, no access friend, No word of visitation, as ye love me, And so for now I'le leave ye. [_Exit._ _Alice._ What a letter Has this thing written, how it roars like thunder! With what a state he enters into stile! Dear Mistress. _Dor._ Out upon him bedlam. _Alice._ Well, there be waies to reach her yet: such likeness As you two carry me thinks. _Dor._ I am mad too, And yet can apprehend ye: fare ye well, The fool shall now fish for himself. _Alice._ Be sure then His tewgh be tith and strong: and next no swearing, He'l catch no fish else, Farewel _Dol._ _Dor._ Farewel _Alice_. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._ _Enter_ Valentine, Alice, _and_ Cellide. _Cel._ Indeed he's much chang'd, extreamly alter'd, His colour faded strangely too. _Val._ The air, The sharp and nipping air of our new climate I hope is all, which will as well restore To health again th' affected body by it, And make it stronger far, as leave it dangerous; How do's my sweet, our blessed hour comes on now Apace my _Cellide_, (it knocks at door) In which our loves, and long desires like rivers Rising asunder far, shall fall together, Within these [two] daies dear. _Cel._ When heaven, and you Sir Shall think it fit: for by your wills I am govern'd. _Alice._ 'Twere good some preparation. _Enter_ Frank.