_Bob._ Faith old Master. There's little hope: the linnen sure was danck He was begot in, he's so faint, and cold: [_2 Torches ready._ Ev'n send him to _Toledo_, there to study, For he will never fadge with these _Toledos_; Bear ye up your point there; pick his teeth: Oh base. _Pio._ Fie: you are the most untoward Scholar: bear Your body gracefully: what a posture's there? You lie too open-breasted. _Luc._ Oh! _Pio._ You'ld never Make a good States-man: _Luc._ Pray no more. I hope to breathe in peace, and therefore need not The practise of these dangerous qualities, I do not mean to live by't; for I trust You'll leave me better able. _Alv._ Not a Button: Let's goe get us a new heir. _Eug._ I by my troth: your daughter's as untoward. _Alv._ I will break thee bone by bone, and bake thee, E'r I'll ha' such a wooden Son to inherit: Take him a good knock; see how that will work. _Pio._ Now, for your life Signior: _Luc._ Oh: alas, I am kill'd My eye is out: look Father: _Zancho_: I'll play the fool no more thus, that I will not. _Cla._ 'Heart: ne'r a rogue in _Spain_ shall wrong my brother Whilst I can hold a sword. _Pio._ Hold Madam, Madam. _Alv. Clara._ _Eug._ Daughter. _Bo[b]._ Mistress. _Pio. Bradamante._ Hold, hold I pray. _Alv._ The devil's in her, o'the other side sure, There's Gold for you: they have chang'd what ye calt's: Will no cure help? well I have one experiment, And if that fail, I'll hang him, then here's an end on't. Come you along with me: and you Sir: [_Exeunt. Alv. Eug. Luc. Bob._ _Bob._ Now are you going to drowning. _Say._ I'll ev'n along with ye: she's too great a Lady For me, and would prove more then my match. [_Exit._ _Cla._ You'r he spoke of _Vitelli_ to the Stewerd: _Pio._ Yes, and I thank you, you have beat me for't. _Cla._ But are you sure you do not wrong him? _Pio._ Sure? So sure, that if you please venture your self I'll shew you him, and his Cokatrice together, And you shall hear 'em talk. _Cla._ Will you? by ---- Sir You shall endear me ever: and I ask You mercy. _Pio._ You were somewhat boystrous. _Cla._ There's Gold to make you amends: and for this pains, I'll gratifie you farther: I'll but masque me And walk along with ye: faith let's make a night on't. [_Exit._ _Scæna Quinta._ _Enter_ Alguazier, Pachieco, Mendoza, Metaldi, Lazarillo.