_Row._ I cannot understand you. _Soph._ Do not you hear In what a state of quarrel the new Bride Stands with her Husband? _Row._ Let him stand with her, and there's an end. _Soph._ It should be, but by'r Lady She holds him out at Pikes end, and defies him, And now is fortifi'd, such a Regiment of Rutters Never defied men braver: I am sent To view their preparation. _Row._ This is news Stranger than Arms in the air: you saw not My gentle Mistriss? _Soph._ Yes, and meditating Upon some secret business, when she had found it She leap'd for joy, and laugh'd, and straight retir'd To shun _Moroso_. _Row._ This may be for me. _Soph._ Will you along? _Row._ No. _Soph._ Farewel. [_Exit_ Sophocles. _Row._ Farewel, Sir. What should her musing mean, and what her joy in't, If not for my advantage? stay ye; may not _Enter_ Livia _at one door, and_ Moroso _at another, hearkning._ That bob-tail jade _Moroso_, with his Gold, His gew-gaudes, and the hope she has to send him Quickly to dust, excite this? here she comes, And yonder walks the Stallion to discover: Yet I'll salute her: save you beauteous Mistriss. _Liv._ The Fox is kennell'd for me: save you Sir. _Row._ Why do you look so strange? _Liv._ I use to look Sir Without examination. _Mar._ Twenty Spur-Royals for that word. _Row._ Belike then The object discontents you? _Liv._ Yes it does. _Row._ Is't come to this? you know me, do you not? _Liv._ Yes, as I may know many by repentance. _Row._ Why do you break your faith? _Liv._ I'll tell you that too, You are under age, and no band holds upon you. _Mor._ Excellent wench. _Liv._ Sue out your understanding, And get more hair to cover your bare knuckle; (For boys were made for nothing, but dry kisses) And if you can, more manners. _Mor._ Better still. _Liv._ And then if I want _Spanish_ Gloves, or Stockings, A ten pound Wastecoat, or a Nag to hunt on, It may be I shall grace you to accept 'em. _Row._ Farewel, and when I credit women more, May I to _Smithfield_, and there buy a Jade, (And know him to be so) that breaks my neck. _Liv._ Because I have known you, I'll be thus kind to you; Farewel, and be a man, and I'll provide you, Because I see y'are desperate, some staid Chamber-maid That may relieve your youth with wholsome doctrine. _Mor._ She's mine from all the world: ha wench? _Liv._ Ha Chicken?-- [_gives him a box o' th' ear, and Ex._ _Mor._ How's this? I do not love these favors: save you. _Row._ The devil take thee-- [_wrings him by th' nose._ _Mor._ Oh! _Row._ There's a Love-token for you: thank me now. _Mor._ I'll think on some of ye, and if I live, My nose alone shall not be plaid withal. [_Exit._ _Actus Secundus. Scaena Prima._ _Enter_ Petronius, _and_ Moroso.