_Gent._ You are now within a mile o'th' Town Sir: if my business Would give me leave, I would turn and wait upon ye; But for such Gentlemen as you enquire of, Certain, I saw none such: But for the boy ye spoke of, I will not say 'tis he, but such a one; Just of that height. _Alph._ In such clothes? _Gent._ I much mistake else, Was sent in th' other night, a little maddish, And where such people wait their cures-- _Alph._ I understand ye. _Gent._ There you may quickly know. _Alph._ I thank ye Sir. _Jul._ So do I too: and if there be such a place, I ask no more: but you shall hear more of me, She may be there, and you may play the tyrant; I'le see what I can do: I am almost foundred In following him; and yet I'le never leave him, I'le crawl of all four first; my cause is meritorious, And come what can come. _Gent._ All you have told me is certain; Complexion, and all else. _Alph._ It may be she then; And I'le so fumble her: is she grown mad now? Is her blood set so high? I'le have her madded, I'le have her worm'd. _Jul._ Mark but the end, old Master, If thou beest not sick o'th' Bots within these five hours, And kickst and roar'st; I'le make ye fart fire, Signior. _Enter_ Alinda, _as a fool_. _Gent._ Here's one o'th' house, a fool, an idiot Sir; May be she is going home; she'l be a guide to ye: And so I kiss your hand. [_Exit._ _Alph._ I am your servant. _Alin._ O now I am lost, lost, lost, Lord, how I tremble! My Father, arm'd in all his hates and angers; This is more misery than I have scap'd yet. _Alph._ Fool, fool. _Alin._ He knows me not; will ye give me two pence? And gaffer, here's a Crow-flower, and a Dazie; I have some pie in my pocket too. _Alph._ This is an arrant fool, An ignorant thing. _Alin._ Believe so, and I am happy. _Alph._ Dost thou dwell in _Sigovia_, fool? _Alin._ No no, I dwell in Heaven. And I have a fine little house, made of Marmalad. And I am a lone woman, and I spin for Saint _Peter_; I have a hundred little children, and they sing Psalms with me. _Alp._ 'Tis pity this pretty thing should want understanding. But why do I stand talking with a coxcombe? If I do find her, if I light upon her, I'le say no more. Is this the way to th' Town, fool? _Alin._ You must go over the top of that high steeple, Gaffer. _Alp._ A plague o' your fools face. _Jul._ No, take her counsel. _Alin._ And then you shall come to a River twenty mile over, And twenty mile and ten: and then you must pray, Gaffer; And still you must pray, and pray. _Alp._ Pray Heaven deliver me From such an ass, as thou art. _Alin._ Amen, sweet Gaffer. And fling a sop of Suger-cake into it; And then you must leap in naked.