_Pet._ What do I ail, i'th' name of heaven I did but see her, And see her die: she stinks by this time strongly, Abominably stinks: she was a woman, A thing I never car'd for: but to die so, So confidently, bravely, strongly; Oh the devil, I have the bots, by ---- she scorn'd us strangely, All we could do, or durst do; threatned us With such a noble anger, and so governed With such a fiery spirit ----; the plain bots; A ---- upon the bots, the love-bots: hang me, Hang me even out o'th' way, directly hang me. Oh penny pipers, and most painful penners Of bountiful new Ballads, what a subject, What a sweet subject for your silver sounds, Is crept upon ye! _Enter_ Junius. _Jun._ Here he is; have at him. [_Sings._ _She set the sword unto her Breast,_ _great pity it was to see,_ _That three drops of her Life-warm bloud,_ _run trickling down her knee._ Art thou there, bonny boy? and i'faith how dost thou? _Petil._ Well, gramercie, how dost thou? h'as found me, Sented me out: the shame the devil ow'd me. H'as kept his day with. And what news, _Junius_? Jun. _It was an old tale ten thousand times told,_ _Of a young Lady was turned into mold,_ _Her life it was lovely, her death it was bold._ _Pet._ A cruel rogue, now h'as [drawn pursue on] me, He hunts me like a devil. No more singing; Thou hast got a cold: come, let's go drink some Sack, boy. _Jun._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. _Pet._ Why dost thou laugh? What Mares nest hast thou found? _Jun._ Ha, ha, ha. I cannot laugh alone: _Decius_, _Demetrius_, _Curius_, oh my sides, Ha, ha, ha, The strangest jest. _Petil._ Prethee no more. _Jun._ The admirablest fooling. _Pet._ Thou art the prettiest fellow. _Jun._ Sirs. _Pet._ Why _Junius_; Prethee away, sweet _Junius_. _Jun._ Let me sing then. _Pet._ Whoa, here's a stir now: sing a song o' six pence, By ---- (if) prethee; ---- on't: _Junius_. _Jun._ I must either sing; or laugh. _Pet._ And what's your reason? _Jun._ What's that to you? _Pet._ And I must whistle. _Jun._ Do so. Oh, I hear 'em coming. _Pet._ I have a little business. _Jun._ Thou shall not go, believe it: what a Gentleman Of thy sweet conversation? _Pet._ Captain _Junius_, Sweet Captain, let me go with all celerity; Things are not always one: and do not question, Nor jeer, nor gybe: none of your doleful Ditties, Nor your sweet conversation, you will find then I may be anger'd. _Jun._ By no means, _Petillius_; Anger a man that never knew passion? 'Tis most impossible: a noble Captain, A wise [and] generous Gentleman?