_Lap._ I'll lose my new place else, What e'er it be; I know not what 'tis yet. _1 Gent._ And now you put me in mind, I could employ it well, For your grace, specially: For the Dukes Cosin Is by this time in's violent fit of mirth, And a device must be sought out for suddainly, To over-cloy the passion. _Lap._ Say no more, Sir, I'll fit you with my Scholars, new practitioners, Endurers of the time. _Clow._ Whereof I am one Sir. _1 Gent._ You carry it away smooth; give me thy hand, Sir. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._ _Enter the two Brothers._ _Pas._ Ha, ha, ha. [_Within._ _2 Bro._ Hark, hark, how loud his fit's grown. _Pas._ Ha, ha, ha. _1 Bro._ Now let our Sister lose no time, but ply it With all the power she has. _2 Bro._ Her shame grows big, brother; The _Cupid_'s shape will hardly hold it longer, 'Twould take up half an Ell of _China_ Damask more, And all too little: it struts per'lously: There is no tamp'ring with these _Cupids_ longer, The meer conceit with Woman-kind works strong. _Pas._ Ha, ha, ha. _2 Bro._ The laugh comes nearer now, 'Twere good we were not seen yet. [_Ex. Bro._ _Enter Passion, and Base, his jester._ _Pas._ Ha, ha, ha, And was he bastinado'd to the life? ha, ha, ha. I prethee say, Lord General, how did the rascals Entrench themselves? _Base._ Most deeply, politickly, all in ditches. _Pas._ Ha, ha, ha. _Bas._ 'Tis thought he'll ne'r bear Arms [ith'] field agen, Has much ado to lift 'em to his head, Sir. _Pas._ I would he had. _Bas._ On either side round Truncheons plaid so thick, That Shoulders, Chines, nay Flanks were paid to th' quick. _Pas._ Well said Lord-General: ha, ha, ha. _Bas._ But pray how grew the diff'rence first betwixt you? _Pas._ There was never any, Sir; there lies the jest man; Only because he was taller than his brother; There's all my quarrel, to him; and methought He should be beaten for't, my mind so gave me, Sir, I could not sleep for't: Ha, ha, ha, ha. Another good jest quickly, while 'tis hot now; Let me not laugh in vain: ply me, oh ply me, As you will answer't to my cosin Duke. _Bas._ Alas, who has a good jest? _Pas._ I fall, I dwindle in't. _Bas._ Ten Crowns for a go[o]d jest: ha' you a good jest, Sir? _Enter Servant._ _Serv._ A pretty moral one. _Bas._ Let's ha't, what e'er it be. _Serv._ There comes a _Cupid_ Drawn by six fools. _Bas._ That's nothing. _Pas._ Help it, help it then. _Bas._ I ha' known six hundred fools drawn by a _Cupid_. _Pas._ I that, that, that's the smarter Moral: ha, ha, ha. Now I begin to be Song-ripe methinks.