_Clow._ Yes, I assure you, for a Conjurer is the Devils Master, and commands him; whereas a Witch is the Devils Prentice, and obeys him. _Host._ Bound Prentice to the Devil! _Clow._ Bound and inroll'd I assure you, he cannot start; and therefore I would never wish any Gentleman to turn Witch. _Host._ Why Man? _Clow._ Oh he loses his Gentility by it, the Devil in this case cannot help him, he must go to the Herald for new Armes believe it. _Host._ As I am true Inkeeper, yet a Gentleman born, I'll ne'er turn Witch for that trick; And thou hast been a great Traveller? _Clow._ No indeed, not I Sir. _Host._ Come, you are modest. _Clow._ No, I am not modest, for I told you a lye, that you might the better understand I have been a Traveller. _Host._ So Sir, they say your Master is a great Physitian too. _Clow._ He was no fool told you that, I assure you. _Host._ And you have been in _England_? but they say, Ladies in _England_ take a great deal of Physick. _Clow._ Both wayes on my reputation. _Host._ So 'tis to be understood: But they say, Ladies there take Physick for fashion. _Clow._ Yes Sir, and many times dye to keep fashion. _Host._ How? dye to keep fashion! _Clow._ Yes, I have known a Lady sick of the small Pocks, onely to keep her face from Pitholes, take cold, strike them in again, kick up the heels, and vanish. _Host._ There was kicking up the heels with a witness. _Clow._ No Sir; I confess a good face has many times been the motive to the kicking up of the heels with a witn[e]ss: but this was not. _Enter_ Hostess, _and_ Bianca. _Host._ Here comes my wife and daughter. _Clow._ You have a prety commodity of this night-worm? _Host._ Why Man? _Clow._ She is a pretty lure to draw custom to your ordinary. _Host._ Do'st think I keep her to that purpose? _Clow._ When a Dove-house is empty, there is cuminseed used to purloine from the rest of the neighbors; in _England_ you have several Adamants, to draw in spurs and rapiers; one keeps silk-worms in a Gallery: A Milliner has choice of Monkies, and Paraketoes; another shewes bawdy East-Indian Pictures, worse than ever were _Aretines_: a Goldsmith keeps his Wife wedged into his shop like a Mermaid, nothing of her to be seen (thats Woman) but her upper part. _Host._ Nothing but her upper part? _Clow._ Nothing but her upper bodies, and he lives at the more hearts ease. _Host._ What's the reason? _Clow._ Because her nether part can give no temptation; by your leave, Sir, I'll tend my Master, and instantly be with you for a cup of _Cherally_ this hot weather. _Host._ A nimble pated Rascal, come hither Daughter, When was _Cesario_ here? _Bian._ Sir, not this fortnight.