_Jul._ Would he would believe her. _Alin._ And sink seven daies together; can ye sink gaffer? _Alp._ Yes coxcomb, yes; prethee farewel: a pox on thee. A plague o' that fool too, that set me upon thee. _Alin._ And then I'le bring you a sup of Milk shall serve ye: I am going to get Apples. _Alp._ Go to th' Devil: Was ever man tormented with a puppy thus? Thou tell me news? thou be a guide? _Alin._ And then Nunkle-- _Alph._ Prethee keep on thy way (good Naunt) I could rail now These ten hours at mine own improvidence: Get Apples, and be choak'd: farewel. [_Exit._ _Alin._ Farewel Nunkle. _Jul._ I rejoyce in any thing that vexes him; I shall love this fool extreamly for't: Could I but see my Mistris now, to tell her How I have truly, honestly wrought for her, How I have worn my self away, to serve her. Fool, there's a Royal for the sport thou mad'st me, In crossing that old fool, that parted from thee. _Alin._ Thou art honest sure; but yet thou must not see me: I thank ye little Gentleman: Heaven bless ye And I'le pray for ye too: pray ye keep this Nutmeg. 'Twas sent me from the Lady of the Mountain, A golden Lady. _Jul._ How prettily it prattles! _Alin._ 'Tis very good to rub your understanding: And so good night, the Moon's up. _Jul._ Pretty innocent. _Alin._ Now fortune, if thou darst do good, protect me. [_Exit._ _Jul._ I'll follow him to yond' Town; he shall not 'scape me. Stay, I must counterfeit a Letter by the way first, And one that must carry some credit with it; I am wide else, And all this to no purpose that I aim at. A Letter must be had, and neatly handled; And then, if Goodwife Fortune do not fail me, Have at his Skirts; I shall worse anger him Than ever I have done, and worse torment him. It does me good to think how I shall conjure him, And crucifie his crabbedness; he's my Master, But that's all one; I'll lay that on the left hand, He would now persecute my harmless Mistriss, A fault without forgiveness, as I take it; And under that bold Banner flies my vengeance, A meritorious War, and so I'll make it. I'th' name of innocence, what's this the fool gave me? She said 'twas good to rub my understanding. What strange Concealment! Bread or Cheese, or a Chesnut? Ha! 'tis a Ring, a pretty Ring, a right one; A Ring I know too! the very same Ring; O admirable Blockhead! O base Eyes! A Ring my Mistriss took from me and wore it; I know it by the Posie: [_Prick me, and heale me._] None could deliver this, but she her self too; Am I twice sand-blind? twice so near the Blessing I would arrive at? and block-like never know it? I am veng'ance angry, but that shall light on thee, And heavily, and quickly, I pronounce it;