_Laun._ Bless me master; look up, Sir, I beseech ye, Up with your eyes to heaven. _Seb._ Up with your nose, Sir, I do not bleed, 'twas a sound knock she gave me, A plaguey mankind Girl, how my [brain] totters? Well, go thy ways, thou hast got one thousand pound more With this dog trick, Mine own true spirit in her too. _Laun._ In her? alas Sir, Alas poor Gentlewom[a]n, she a hand so heavy, To knock ye like a Calf down, or so brave a courage To beat her father? if you could believe, Sir. _Seb._ Who would'st thou make me believe it was, the Devil? _Laun._ One that spits fire as fast as he sometimes, Sir, And changes shapes as often; your Son _Thomas_; Never wonder, if it be not he, straight hang me. _Seb._ He? if it be so, I'll put thee in my Will, and there's an end on't. _Laun._ I saw his legs, h'as Boots on like a Player, Under his wenches cloaths, 'tis he, 'tis _Thomas_ In his own Sisters Cloaths, Sir, and I can wast him. _Seb._ No more words then, we'll watch him, thou'lt not believe _Launce_, How heartily glad I am. _Laun._ May ye be gladder, But not this way, Sir. _Seb._ No more words, but watch him. [_Exeunt._ SCENE VII. _Enter_ Mary, Dorothy, _and Maid_. _Mary._ When comes he? _Dor._ Presently. _Mary._ Then get you up, _Doll_, Away, I'll straight come to you: is all ready? _Maid._ All. _Mary._ Let the light stand far enough. _Maid._ 'Tis placed so. _Mary._ Stay you to entertain him to his chamber, But keep close, Wench, he flyes at all. _Maid._ I warrant ye. _Mary._ You need no more instruction? _Maid._ I am perfect. [_Exeunt._ SCENE VIII. _Enter_ Valentine, _and_ Thomas. _Tho._ More stops yet? sure the fiend's my ghostly father, Old Valentine; what wind's in his poop? _Val._ Lady, You are met most happily; O gentle _Doll_, You must now do me an especial favour. _Tho._ What is it master _Valentine_? I am sorely troubled With a salt rheum faln i' my gums. _Val._ I'll tell ye, And let it move you equally; my blest Mistress, Upon a slight occasion taking anger, Took also (to undo me) your Aunts Nunnery, From whence by my perswasion to redeem her, Will be impossible: nor have I liberty To come and visit her; my good, good _Dorothy_, You are most powerful with her, and your Aunt too, And have access at all hours liberally, Speak now or never for me. _Thom._ In a Nunnery? That course must not be suffered, Master _Valentine_, Her Mother never knew it; rare sport for me; Sport upon sport, by th' break of day I'll meet ye, And fear not, Man, we'll have her out I warrant ye, I cannot stay now. _Val._ You will not break? _Thom._ By no means. Good night.