_Pis._ Sir, what kind of woman? Of what proportion is your Lady? _Lod._ I. _Fath._ I'll tell you presently her very Picture, Do you know a woman in this town they call (Stay, yes, it is so) _Leila_? _Piso._ Not by sight. _Fath._ Nor you, Sir? _Lod._ Neither. _Fath._ These are precious Rogues To rail upon a woman they never saw; So they would use their Kindred. _Pis._ We have heard though She is very fair and goodly. _Fath._ Such another, Just of the same Complexion, making, speech, But a thought sweeter is my Lady. _Lod._ Then She must be excellent indeed. _Fath._ Indeed she is, And you will find it so; you do believe me? _Lod._ Yes marry do I, and I am so alter'd-- _Fath._ Your happiness will alter any man: Do not delay the time, Sir; at a house Where _Don Valasco_ lay, the Spanish Seignior (Which now is Seignior _Angelo's_) she is. _Lod._ I know it. [_Fath._] But before you shew your self, Let it be night by all means, willingly By day she would not have such Gallants seen Repair unto her, 'tis her modesty. _Lod._ I'll go and fit my self. _Fath._ Do, and be sure You send provision in, in full abundance, Fit for the Marriage; for this night I know She will be yours, Sir, have you never a token Of worth to send her back again? you must, She will expect it. _Lod._ Yes, pray give her this. And with it all I have; I am made for ever. [_Exit_ Lod. _Pis._ Well, thou hast fools luck; should I live as long As an old Oak, and say my prayers hourly, I should not be the better of a penny; I think the Devil be my ghostly father; Upon my conscience I am full as handsome, I am sure I have more wit, and more performance, Which is a pretty matter. _Fath._ Do you think, Sir, That your friend, Seignior _Piso_, will be constant Unto my Lady? you should know him well. _Piso._ Who? Seignior _Piso_? _Fath._ Yes, the Gentleman. _Piso._ Why, you are wide, Sir. _Fath._ Is not his name _Piso_? _Piso._ No, mine is _Piso_. _Fath._ How? _Piso._ 'Tis indeed, Sir, And his is _Lodowick_. _Fath._ Then I am undone, Sir, For I was sent at first to _Piso_; what a Rascal Was I, so ignorantly to mistake you? _Piso._ Peace, There is no harm done yet. _Fath._ Now 'tis too late, I know my errour; At turning of a Street, For you were then upon the right hand of him, You chang'd your places suddenly; where I (Like a cross block-head) lost my memory; What shall I do? my Lady utterly Will put me from her favour. _Piso._ Never fear it, I'll be thy guard I warrant thee; O, O, Am I at length reputed? for the Ring, I'll fetch it back with a light vengeance from him; H'ad better keep tame Devils than that Ring; Art thou not Steward? _Fath._ No.