_Wi._ No, no, farewell _Toby_, Farewell spiny _Nicholas_, no such thing, There be ways i'the world, if you see me A day or two hence, may be wee'l crack a quart yet, And pull a bell, commend to the houshold; Nay, cry not _Toby_, 'twill make thy head giddy. _To._ Sweet Master _Wildbraine_. _Wi._ No more _Toby_, go the times may alter-- But where's the coarse of my dead cosen, (If she be dead) I hop'd 'thad but dissembled That sits heavy here: _Toby_, honest _Toby_, Lend me thy Lanthorn, I forgot 'twas dark, I had need look to my ways now. _To._ Take a lodging with me to night in the Stable, And ride away to morrow with one of the horses, Next your heart, pray do. _Wi._ No, good night good neighbor _Toby_, I will wander, I scorn to submit my self, ere I have rambled, But whither, or with what, that's more material; No matter, and the worst come, it is but stealing, And my Aunt wo'not see me hang'd for her own credit, And farewel in a Halter costs me nothing. [_Exit._ _Enter_ Hartlove. _Fran._ The night, and all the evil the night covers, The Goblins, Haggs, and the black spawn of darkness, Cannot fright me: no death, I dare thy cruelty. For I am weary both of life and light too; Keep my wits heaven, they say spirits appear To melancholy minds, and the graves open, I would fain see the fair _Maria_'s shadow, But speak unto her spirit e'er I dyed, But ask upon my knees a mercy from her; I was a villain, but her wretched kinsman, That set his plot, shall with his heart-blood satisfie Her injur'd life and honor, what light's this? _Enter_ Wildbrain _with a Lanthorn_. _Wild._ It is but melancholy walking thus; The Tavern doors are baracado'd too, Where I might drink till morn in expectation; I cannot meet the Watch neither; nothing in The likeness of a Constable, whom I might, In my distress, abuse, and so be carried, For want of other lodging, to the Counter. _Fra._ 'Tis his voice, Fate, I thank thee. _Wild._ Ha, who's that, and thou be'st a man speak? _Frank Hartlove_, then I bear my destinies, Thou art the man of all the world I wish'd for; My Aunt has turn'd me out a doors, she has, At this unchristian hour, and I do walk, Methinks like _Guido Faux_ with my dark Lanthorn, Stealing to set the Town a fire; i'th' Countrey I should be tane for _William_ o' the Wispe, Or: _Robin Good-fellow_, and how dost _Frank_? _Ha._ The worse for you. _Wild._ Come, tha'rt a fool, art going to thy lodging? I'll lie with thee to night, and tell thee stories, How many devils we ha met withal; Our house is haunted _Frank_, whole legions, I saw fifty for my share. _Fr._ Didst not fright 'em? _Wild._ How; fright 'em? no, they frighted me sufficiently.