_Jaq._ Your worships Shall have it rich and neat: and o' my conscience As welcome as our _Lady-day_: Oh my old Sir, When shall we see your worship run at Ring? That hour, a standing were worth money. _Mor._ So Sir. _Jaq._ Upon my little honesty, your Mistriss, If I have any speculation, must think This single thrumming of a Fiddle, Without a Bow, but even poor sport. _Mor._ Y'are merry. _Ja._ Would I were wise too: so God bless your worship. _Tra._ The fellow tells you true. [_Exit_ Jaq. _Soph._ When is the day man? Come, come, you'll steal a marriage. _Mor._ Nay, believe me: But when her Father pleases, I am ready, And all my friends shall know it. _Tra._ Why not now? One charge had serv'd for both. _Mor._ There's reason in't. _Soph._ Call'd _Rowland_-- _Mor._ Will ye walk? They'll think we are lost: Come Gentlemen. _Tra._ You have wip'd him now. _Soph._ So will he never the wench, I hope. _Tra._ I wish it. [_Exeunt._ _Scaena Secunda._ _Enter_ Rowland _and_ Livia. _Row._ Now _Livia_, if you'll go away to night, If your affections be not made of words. _Liv._ I love you, and you know how dearly _Rowland_, Is there none near us? my affections ever Have been your servants; with what superstition I have ever Sainted you-- _Row._ Why then take this way. _Liv._ 'Twill be a childish, and a less prosperous course, Than his that knows not care: why should we do, Our honest and our hearty love such wrong, To over-run our fortunes? _Row._ Then you flatter. _Liv._ Alas, you know I cannot. _Ro[w]._ What hope's left else But flying to enjoy ye? _Liv._ None so far, For let it be admitted, we have time, And all things now in other expectation, My father's bent against us; what but ruine, Can such a by-way bring us? if your fears Would let you look with my eyes, I would shew you, And certain, how our staying here would win us A course, though somewhat longer, yet far surer. _Row._ And then _Moroso_ h'as ye. _Liv._ No such matter For hold this certain, begging, stealing, whoring, Selling (which is a sin unpardonable) Of counterfeit Cods, or musty English _Croacus_; Switches, or Stones for th' tooth-ache sooner finds me, Than that drawn Fox _Moroso_. _Row._ But his money, If wealth may win you-- _Liv._ If a Hog may be High Priest among the _Jews_? his money _Rowland_? Oh Love forgive me, what faith hast thou? Why, can his money kiss me? _Row._ Yes.