_Jul._ Reward me for 'em. Or if I had such tricks, you could discover So weak, and sleightly woven, you might look through, All the young Girls should hoot me out o' th' Parish; You are my Master, but you own an anger Becomes a School-Boy that hath lost his Apples; Will ye force things into our knowledges? _Alph._ Come hither, _Juletta_, thou didst love me. _Jul._ And do stil[l], You are my Ladies Father, and I reverence ye. _Alph._ Thou would'st have pleas'd my humour. _Jul._ Any good way, That carried not suspicion in't, or flattery, Or fail of trust. _Alph._ Come, come, thou wouldst have-- _Jul._ Stay, Sir. _Alph._ And thou hast felt my bounty for't, and shalt do. Dost thou want Cloaths or Money? _Jul._ Both. _Alph._ 'Shalt have both. _Jul._ But not this way, I had rather be an Adamite, And bring Fig-tree leaves into fashion again. If you were young, Sir, Handsome, and fitted to a Womans appetite; And I a giddy-headed Girl, that car'd for nothing, Much might be done; then you might fumble with me, And think to grope out matters of some moment, Which now you will put too short for; For what you have seen hitherto And know by me, has been but honest service, Which I dare pin i'th' market-place to answer; And let the World, the Flesh, and Devil examine it, And come you in too, I dare stand your strictest. And so much good may do you, with your dreams of courtesie. _Alph._ This is most monstrous. _Enter Porter, and Servants._ _Seb._ Sure she does not know, Sir; She durst not be so confident, and guilty. _Alph._ How now, what news? what hopes and steps discovered? Speak any thing that's good, that tends to th' matter; Do you stand staring still? _1 Serv._ We are no gods, Sir, To say she is here or there, or what she is doing; But we have search'd. _Port._ I am sure she is not i'th' Cellar; For look you, Sir, if she had been i'th' Cellar-- _Alph._ I am sure thou hast been there. _Port._ As I carried the matter, For I search'd every piece of Wine; yes sure, Sir, And every little Terse, that could but testifie; And I drew hard to bolt her out. _Alph._ Away with him; Fling him i'th' Hay-mow, let him lye a mellowing; He stinks of Muskadel like an _English Christmas_; Are these your cares? your services? _2 Serv._ Pray ye hear, Sir, We have found where she went out, her very footing. _Alph._ Where, where? go on. _Cur._ Observe then with more stayedness. _2 Ser._ Searching the Garden at the little Postern That opens to the Park, we first discovered it. _Alph._ A little foot? _1 Serv._ It must be hers, or none, Sir. _Alph._ How far beyond that? _1 Serv._ To the Park it leads us, But there the ground being hard, we could not mark it.