_Die._ I fear none but fair wenches; those are thieves, May quickly rob me of my good conditions, If they cry Stand once: but the best is Signiors They cannot bind my hands: for any else, They meet an equal knave, and there's my Passport: I have seen fine sport in this place: had these three tongues, They would tell ye pretty matters: do not you fear, though They are not every daies delights. _Phil._ What sport Sir? _Die._ Why to say true, the sport of all sports. _Phil._ What was't? _Die._ Such turning up of Taffataes; and you know To what rare whistling tunes they go, far beyond A soft wind in the shrowds: such stand there, And down i'th' other place; such supplications And subdivisions for those toys their honors, One, as ye are a Ge[n]tleman in this bush, And oh sweet Sir, what mean ye? there's a bracelet, And use me I beseech ye like a woman; And her petition's heard: another scratches, And cries she will die first, and then swounds: but certain She is brought to life again, and does well after. Another, save mine honor, oh mine honor, My Husband serves the Duke, Sir, in his kitchen; I have a cold pie for ye; fie, fie, fie Gentlemen, Will nothing satisfie, where's my Husband? Another cries, do ye see Sir how they use me, Is there no Law for these things? _Theo._ And good mine Host, Do you call these fine sports? _Die._ What should I call 'em, They have been so call'd these thousand years and upwards. _Phil._ But what becomes o'th' men? _Die._ They're stript and bound, Like so many _Adams_, with fig-leaves afore 'em, And there's their innocence. _Theo._ Would we had known this! Before we reacht this place. _Phil._ Come, there's no danger, These are but sometimes chances. _Enter Bailiff._ _Host._ Now we must through. _Theo._ Who's that? _Host._ Stand to it Signiors. _Phil._ No it needs not, I know the face; 'tis honest. _Bayl._ What mine Host: Mine everlasting honest Host. _Host._ Mass Baily: Now in the name of an ill reckoning What make you walking this round? _Bayl._ A ---- of this round, And of all business too, through woods, and rascals, They have rounded me away a dozen Duckets, Besides a fair round Cloak: Some of 'em knew me, Else they had cased me like a Cunnie too, As they have done the rest, and I think roasted me, For they began to baste me soundly: my young Signiors, You may thank heaven, and heartily, and hourly, You set not out so early; ye had been smoak'd else By this true hand [y]e had Sirs, finely smoak'd, Had ye been Women, smockt too. _Theo._ Heaven defend us.