_2 Bro._ 'Tis but preferring, Brother This stockfish to his service, with a Letter Of commendations, the same way he wishes it, And then you win his heart: for o' my knowledge He has laid wait this half year for a fellow That will be beaten, and with a safe conscience We may commend the carriage of this man in't; Now servants he has kept, lusty tall feeders, But they have beat him, and turn'd themselves away: Now one that would endure, is like to stay, And get good wages of him; and the service too Is ten times milder, Brother, I would not wish it else. I see the fellow has a sore crush'd body, And the more need he has to be kick'd at ease. _Clow._ I sweet Gentlemen, a kick of ease, send me to such a Master. _2 Bro._ No more I say, we have one for thee, a soft footed Master, One that wears wooll in's toes. _Clow._ Oh Gentlemen, soft garments may you wear, Soft skins may you wed, But as plump as pillows, both for white and red. And now will I reveal a secret to you, Since you provide for my poor flesh so tenderly, Has hir'd meer rogues out of his chamber window, To beat the Soldier, Monsieur _Shamont_'s Brother: _1 Bro._ That nothing concerns us, Sir. _Clow._ For no cause, Gentlemen, Unless it be for wearing Shoulder-points, With longer taggs than his. _2 Bro._ Is not that somewhat? Birlakin Sir, the difference of long taggs, Has cost many a man's life, and advanc'd other some, Come follow me. _Clow._ See what a gull am I: Oh every man in his profession; I know a thump now as judiciously, As the proudest he that walks, I'll except none; Come to a tagg, how short I fall! I'm gone [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ Lapet.