_Tho._ Why _Doll_, why _Doll_ I say: my letter fub'd too, And no access without I mend my manners? All my designes in Limbo? I will have her, Yes, I will have her, though the Devil roar, I am resolv'd that, if she live above ground, I'le not be bob'd i'th' nose with every bobtail: I will be civil too, now I think better, Exceeding civil, wondrous finely carried: And yet be mad upon occasion, And stark mad too, and save my land: my Father, I'le have my will of him, how e're my wench goes. [_Exit._ _Enter_ Sebastian, _and_ Launcelot. _Seb._ Sirrah, I say still you have spoil'd your Master: leave your stiches: I say thou hast spoil'd thy Master. _Lau._ I say how Sir? _Seb._ Marry thou hast taught him like an arrant rascal, First to read perfectly: which on my blessing I warn'd him from: for I knew if he read once, He was a lost man. Secondly, Sir _Launcelot_, Sir lowsie _Launcelot_, ye have suffer'd him Against my power first, then against my precept, To keep that simpring sort of people company, That sober men call civil: mark ye that Sir? _Lau._ And't please your worship. _Seb._ It does not please my worship, Nor shall not please my worship: thirdly and lastly, Which if the law were here, I would hang thee for, (However I will lame thee) like a villain, Thou hast wrought him Clean to forget what 'tis to do a mischief, A handsom mischief, such as thou knew'st I lov'd well. My servants all are sound now, my drink sowr'd, Not a horse pawn'd, nor plaid away: no warrants Come for the breach of peace. Men travel with their mony, and nothing meets 'em: I was accurs'd to send thee, thou wert ever Leaning to laziness, and loss of spirit, Thou slept'st still like a cork upon the water. _Lau._ Your worship knows, I ever was accounted The most debosh'd, and please you to remember, Every day drunk too, for your worships credit, I broke the Butlers head too. _Seb._ No, base Palliard, I do remember yet that anslaight, thou wast beaten, And fledst before the Butler; a black jack Playing upon thee furiously, I saw it: I saw thee scatter'd rogue, behold thy Master. _Enter_ Thomas, _with a Book_. _Thom._ What sweet content dwells here! _Lau._ Put up your Book Sir, We are all undone else. _Seb._ _Tom_, when is the horse-race? _Thom._ I know not Sir. _Seb._ You will be there? _Tho._ Not I Sir, I have forgot those journeys. _Seb._ Spoil'd for ever. The Cocking holds at _Derby_, and there will be _Jack_ Wild-oats, and _Will_ Purser. _Tho._ I am sorry, Sir, They should employ their time so slenderly, Their understandings will bear better courses.