_Enter_ Lodowick, _and_ Piso. _Lod._ This roguey Captain has made fine work with us. _Pis._ I would the Devil in a storm would carry him Home to his Garrison again; I ake all over, That I am sure of; certainly my Body Is of a wild-fire, for my head rings backward, Or else I have a morise in my brains. _Lod._ I'll deal no more with Souldiers; well remembred, Did not the Vision promise to appear About this time again? _Pis._ Yes, here he comes; He's just on's word. _Enter Father_. _Fath._ O, they be here together, She's penitent, and by my troth I stagger Whether (as now she is) either of these Two fools be worthy of her; yet because Her youth is prone to fall again, ungovern'd, And marriage now may stay her, one of 'em; And _Piso_, since I understand him abler, Shall be the man; the other bear the charges, And willingly, as I will handle it. I have a Ring here, which he shall believe Is sent him from a woman I have thought of; But e're I leave it, I'll have one of his In pawn worth two on't; for I will not lose By such a mess of sugar-sops as this is: I am too old. _Lod._ It moves again, let's meet it. _Fath._ Now if I be not out, we shall have fine sport, I am glad I have met you, Sir, so happily, You do remember me I am sure. _Lod._ I do, Sir. _Pis._ This is a short præludium to a challenge. _Fa._ I have a message, Sir, that much concerns you, And for your special good; nay, you may hear too. _Pis._ What should this fellow mean? _Fath._ There is a Lady, (How the poor thing begins to warm already) Come to this town, (as yet a stranger here, Sir) Fair, young, and rich, both in possessions, And all the graces that make up a Woman, A Widow, and a vertuous one; it works, He needs no broth upon't. _Lod._ What of her, Sir? _Fath._ No more but this; she loves you. _Lod._ Loves me? _Fath._ Yes, And with a strong affection, but a fair one, If ye be wise and thankful ye are made; there's the whole matter. _Lod._ I am sure I hear this. _Fath._ Here is a Ring, Sir, of no little value; Which after she had seen you at a window, She bad me haste, and give it, when she blush'd Like a blown Rose. _Lod._ But pray, Sir, by your leave--Methinks your years should promise no ill meaning. _Fath._ I am no Bawd, nor Cheater, nor a Courser Of broken-winded women; if you fear me, I'll take my leave, and let my Lady use A fellow of more form; an honester I am sure she cannot. _Lod._ Stay, you have confirm'd me, Yet let me feel; you are in health? _Fath._ I hope so, My water's well enough, and my pulse. _Lod._ Then All may be excellent; pray pardon me, For I am like a Boy that had found money, Afraid I dream still.