_Alph._ Thou lyest; 'tis damnable ill, 'tis most abominable; Will ye confess (Thing?) _Jul._ Say I were guilty, Sir; I would be hang'd before I would confess; Is this a World to confess in? _Cur._ Deal directly. _Jul._ Yes, if my matter lye direct before me; But when I am forc'd, and ferretted. _Alph._ Tell me the truth, And as I live, I'll give thee a new Petticoat. _Jul._ And you would give me ten, I would not tell ye, Truths bear a greater price than you are aware of. _Seb._ Deal modestly. _Jul._ I do not pluck my Cloaths up. _Al._ What say you, Sirrah? you? or you? are ye dumb all? _Port._ I saw her last night, and't shall like your Worship, When I serv'd in her Livery. _Alph._ What's that, Sirrah? _Port._ Her Chamber-pot, and't please you. _Seb._ A new Livery. _Alph._ Where lay she? who lay with her? _Port._ In truth, not I, Sir; I lay with my fellow _Frederick_ in the flea-Chamber, And't like your Worship, we are almost worried. _Jul._ I left her by her self, in her own Closet, And there I thought she had slept. _Alph._ Why lay you from her? _Jul._ It was her will I should; she is my Mistriss, And my part is obedience. _Alph._ Were all the doors lock'd? _Port._ All mine. _Ser._ And mine; she could not get out those ways Unless she leapt the walls; and those are higher Than any Womans courage dare aspire at. _Alph._ Come, you must know. _Cur._ Conceal it not, but deal plain. _Jul._ If I did know, and her trust lay upon me, Not all your angers nor your flatteries Should make me speak, but having no more interest Than I may well deliver to the air, I'll tell ye what I know, and tell it liberally, I think she is gone, because we cannot find her; I think she is weary of your tyranny, And therefore gone; may be she is in love; May be in love, where you show no great liking, And therefore gone; May be some point of Conscience, Or vow'd Devotion. _Alph._ These are nothing, minion; You that can aim at these, must know the truth too. _Jul._ Any more truth than this if I know, hang me, Or where to search for it, if I make a lye To gain your love, and envy my best Mistriss, Pin me against a wall with my heels upward. _Alph._ Out of my doors. _Jul._ That's all my poor petition; For if your house were Gold, and she not in it, Sir, I should count it but a Cage to whistle in. _Alph._ Whore, if she be above ground, I will have her. _Jul._ I would live in a Coal-pit then, were I your daughter. _Seb._ Certain she does not know, Sir. _Alph._ Hang her, hang her; She knows too much; search all the house, all corners, And where 'tis possible she may go out, [_Ex. Servants._ If I do find your tricks.