Is this your wench? you'l find her a sharp Mistris. What have I thrust my self into? is this that _Lidian_ You told me of? _Clar._ The same. _Lisa._ My Ladies Brother? No cause to heave my sword against but his? To save the Father yesterday, and this morning, To help to kill the Son? this is most courteous! The only way to make the Daughter doat on me. _Clar._ Why do you muse? would ye go off? _Lisa._ No, no, I must on now; this will be kindly taken; No life to sacrifice, but part of hers? Do you fight straight? _Clara._ Yes, presently. _Lisan._ To morrow then, The balefull tidings of this day will break out, And this nights Sun will set in bloud; I am troubl'd: If I am kill'd, I am happy. _Clar._ Will you go friend? _Lis._ I am ready Sir, fortune thou hast made me monstrous. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ Malfort, _and_ Clarinda. _Malf._ Your cousin, and my true friend, lusty _Leon_, Shall know how you use me. _Clar._ Be more temperate, Or I will never use, nor know you more I'th' way of a servant: all the house takes notice Of your ridiculous fopperie; I have no sooner Perform'd my duties in my Ladies chamber, And she scarce down the stairs, but you appear Like my evil spirit to me. _Malf._ Can the fish live out of the water, or the Salamander Out of the fire? or I live warm, but in The frying-pan of your favour? _Cla._ Pray you forget Your curious comparisons, borrowed from The pond, and kitchin, and remember what My Ladies pleasure is for th' entertainment Of her noble Father. _Ma._ I would learn the art of memory in your table book. _Cla._ Very good sir, no more but up and ride, I apprehend Your meaning, soft fire makes sweet mault Sir: I'le answer you in a Proverb. _Mal._ But one kiss from thy hony lip. _Cla._ You fight too high, my hand is A fair ascent from my foot, his slavering kisses Spoil me more gloves,--enough for once, you'l surfeit With too much grace. _Mal._ Have you no imployment for me? _C[la]._ Yes, yes, go send for _Leon_, and convey him Into the private Arbour, from his mouth I hear your praises with more faith. _Ma._ I am gone; yet one thing e're I go, there's at the door The rarest Fortune-teller, he hath told me The strangest things; he knows ye are my Mistris, And under seal deliver'd how many Children I shall beget on you, pray you give him hearing, He'l make it good to you. _Cla._ A cunning man Of your own making, howsoe'r I'le hear him At your intreaty. _Mal._ Now I perceive ye love me, At my entreaty, come in friend--remember To speak as I directed, he knows his lesson, And the right way to please her; this it is To have a head-piece. [_Exit._