_Thom._ Roar again, Devil, roar again. [_Exit_ Tho. _Moor._ O, O, Sir. _Ma._ Open the doors before him; let him vanish: Now, let him come again, I'll use him kinder. How now Wench? _Moor._ 'Pray lye here your self next, Mistress, And entertain your sweet-heart. _Ma._ What said he to thee? _Moor._ I had a soft Bed, and I slept out all But his kind farewel: ye may bake me now, For o' my conscience, he has made me Venison. _Ma._ Alas poor _Kate_: I'll give thee a new Petticoat. _Dor._ And I a Wastecoat, wench. _Ma._ Draw in the Bed, Maids, And see it made again; put fresh sheets on too, For _Doll_ and I; come Wench, let's laugh an hour now. To morrow, early, will we see young _Cellide_, They say she has taken a Sanctuary; Love and they Are thick sown, but come up so full of thistles. _Dor._ They must needs, _Mall_, for 'tis a pricking age grown, Prithee to bed, for I am monstrous sleepy. _Mary._ A match, but art not thou thy Brother? _Dor._ I would I were, Wench, You should hear further. _Ma._ Come, no more of that, _Doll_. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _Enter_ Hylas, _and_ Thomas. _Hyl._ I heard the doors clap; now, and't be thy will, wench. By th' Mass she comes; you are surely met fair Gentlewoman, I take it, Mistress _Doll Sebastians_ Daughter. _Thom._ I take right, Sir; _Hylas_, are you ferretting? I'll fit you with a penny-worth presently. _Hyl._ How dare you walk so late, sweet, so weak guarded? _Thom._ 'Faith Sir, I do no harm, nor none I look for, Yet I am glad I have met so good a Gentleman, Against all chances; for though I never knew ye, Yet I have heard much good spoke of ye. _Hyl._ Hark ye, What if a man should kiss ye? _Thom._ That's no harm, Sir; 'Pray God he 'scapes my Beard, there lies the mischief. _Hyl._ Her lips are monstrous rugged, but that surely Is but the sharpness of the weather; hark ye [once] more, And in your ear, sweet Mistress, for ye are so, And ever shall be from this hour: I have vow'd it. _Enter_ Sebastian, _and_ Launcelot. _Seb._ Why, that's my daughter, Rogue, dost thou not see her Kissing that fellow there, there in that corner? _Laun._ Kissing? _Seb._ Now, now, now they agree o'th' match too. _Thom._ Nay then you love me not. _Hyl._ By this white hand, _Doll_. _Thom._ I must confess I have long desir'd your sight, Sir. _Laun._ Why, there's the Boots still, Sir. _Seb._ Hang Boots, Sir, Why, they'll wear Breeches too. _Thom._ Dishonest me? Not for the World. _Seb._ Why, now they kiss again, there I knew 'twas she, and that her crafty stealing Out the back way must needs have such a meaning. _Laun._ I am at my small wits ends. _Thom._ If ye mean honourably.