_L. Rui._ Nay, let's have Musick, let that sweet breath at least Give us her airy welcome, 'twill be the best I fear this ruin'd receptacle will yield, But that most freely. _Nee._ My welcome follows me, Else I am ill, come hither, you assure me Still Mr. _Cuningame_ will be here, and that it was His kind entreaty that wish'd me meet him. _L. Ruin._ Else let me be that shame unto my Sex, That all belief may flie um. _Nee._ Continue still The Knights name unto my Guardianess, She expects no other. [_L]. Ruin._ He will, he will, assure you Lady, _Sir Gregory_ will be here, and suddainly This Musick fore-ran him, is't not so consorts? _Ruin._ Yes Lady, he stays on some device to bring along Such a labour he was busie in, some witty device. _Nee._ 'T[w]ill be long e'r he comes then, for wits a great Labour to him. _Guard._ Well, well, you'll agree better one day. _Nee._ Scarce two I think. _Guard._ Such a mock-beggar suit of cloaths as led me Into the fools pair-of-Dice, with Dewze Ace, He that would make me Mistriss _Cun_, _Cun_, _Cunnie_, He's quite out of my mind, but I shall ne'er Forget him, while I have a hole in my head; Such a one I think would please you better, Though he did abuse you. _Ruin._ Fye, speak well of him now, Your Neece has quitted him. _Guard._ I hope she has, Else she loses me for ever; but for _Sir Gregory_. Would he were come, I shall ill answer this Unto your Uncle else. _Nee._ You know 'tis his pleasure I should keep him company. _Guard._ I, and should be your own If you did well too: Lord, I do wonder At the niceness of you Ladies now a days, They must have Husbands with so much wit forsooth. Worship and wealth were both wont to be In better request I'm sure, I cannot tell, But they get ne'er the wiser children that I see. _La. Ruin._ La, la, la, la, Sol, this Musick breaths in vain; Methinks 'tis dull to let it move alone, Let's have a female motion, 'tis in private, And we'll grace't our selves, however it deserves. _Nee._ What say you Guardianess? _Guard._ 'Las I'm weary with the walk, My jaunting days are done. _L. Ru._ Come, come, we'll fetch her in by course, or else She shall pay the Musick. _Guard._ Nay, I'll have a little for my money then. [_They Dance, a Cornet is winded._ _L. Ru._ Hark! upon my life the Knight; 'tis your friend, This was the warning-piece of his approach. _Enter_ Old Knight, Witty-pate, Cunningame, _Masqu'd, and take them to Dance_. _L. Ru._ Ha? no words but mum? well then, We shall need no counsel-keeping. _Nee. Cuningam?_ _Cun._ Yes, fear nothing. _Nee._ Fear? why do you tell me of it? _Cun._ Your Uncles here. _Nee._ Aye me. _Cun._ Peace.