_Witty._ Faith Sir I must excuse my Cosin in this act, If you can excuse your self for making him A Priest, there's the most difficult answer. I put this practise on him, as from your desire, A truth, a truth, Father. _Cred._ I protest, Sir, he tells you truth, he mov'd me to't in your nam[e]. _Old K._ I protest, Sir, he told you a lye in my name, and were you so easie, Mr. _Credulous_, to believe him? _Cred._ If a man should not believe his Cosin, Sir, whom should he believe? _Old K._ Good'en to you, good Mr. Cosin _Cuningam_, And your fair Bride, my Cosin _Cuningam_ too, And how do you Sir _Gregory_, with your fair Lady? _Sir Greg._ A little better than you would have had me, I thank you Sir, the days of Puppy, and Slave, and Rascal, are pretty well blown over now, I know Crabs from Verjuyce, I have tryed both, and thou'dst give me thy Neece for nothing, I'd not have her. _Cun._ I think so Sir _Gregory_, for my sake you would not. _Sir Gr._ I wou'd thou hadst scap'd her too, and then she had died of the Green sickness: know this, that I did marry in spight, and I will kiss my Lady in spight, and love her in spight, and beget children of her in spight, and when I dye, they shall have my Lands in spight; this was my resolution, and now 'tis out. _Nee._ How spightful are you now, Sir _Gregory_! Why look you, I can love my dearest Husband, With all the honors, duties, sweet embraces, That can be thrown upon a loving man. _Sir Gr._----This is afore your Uncles face, but behind his back, in private, you'll shew him another tale-- _Cun._ You see, Sir, now the irrecoverable state of all these things before you: come out of your muse, they have been but Wit-weapons, you were wont to love the Play. _Enter Clown._ _Old K._ Let me alone in my muse a little, Sir, I will wake to you anon. _Cun._ U'd so, your friend _Pompey_, how will you answer him? _Nee._ Very well, if you'll but second it, and help me. _Clow._ I do hear strange stories, are Ladies things obnoxious? _Nee._ Oh, the dissembling falsest wretch is come. _Cun._ How now Lady? _Nee._ Let me come to him, and instead of love Let me have revenge. _Witty._ Pray you now, will you first examine, whether he be guilty or no. _Nee._ He cannot be excus'd, How many Messengers (thou perjur'd man) Hast thou return'd with Vows and Oaths, that thou Wouldst follow, and never till this unhappy hour Could I set eye of thee, since thy false eye Drew my heart to it? oh I could tear thee now, Instead of soft embraces, pray give me leave-- _Witty._ Faith this was ill done of you Sir, if you promis'd otherwise.