_Bas._ I'll sing you a pleasant Air Sir, before you ebb. SONG. Pas. _Oh how my Lungs do tickle! ha, ha, ha._ _Bas. Oh how my Lungs do tickle! oh, oh, ho, ho._ Pas. Sings. _Set a sharp Jest_ _Against my breast,_ _Then how my Lungs do tickle!_ _As Nightingales,_ _And things in Cambrick rails,_ _Sing best against a prickle,_ _Ha, ha, ha, ha._ Bas. _Ho, ho, ho, ho, ha._ Pas. _Laugh._ Bas. _Laugh._ Pas. _Laugh._ Bas. _Laugh._ Pas. _Wide._ Bas. _Loud._ Pas. _And vary._ Bas. _A smile is for a simpering Novice._ Pas. _One that ne'er tasted Caveare._ Bas. _Nor knows the smack of dear Anchovis._ Pas. _Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha._ Bas. _Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho._ Pas. _A gigling waiting wench for me,_ _That shews her teeth how white they be._ Bas. _A thing not fit for gravity,_ _For theirs are foul, and hardly three._ Pas. _Ha, ha, ha._ Bas. _Ho, ho, ho._ Pas. Democritus, _thou antient Fleerer,_ _How I miss thy laugh, and ha' since_. Bas. _There you nam'd the famous Jeerer,_ _That ever jeer'd in_ Rome, _or_ Athens. Pas. _Ha, ha, ha._ Bas. _Ho, ho, ho._ Pas. _How brave lives he that keeps a fool,_ _Although the rate be deeper!_ [B]as. _But he that is his own fool, Sir,_ _Does live a great deal cheaper._ Pas. _Sure I shall burst, burst, quite break, thou art so witty._ Bas. _'Tis rare to break at Court, for that belongs to th' City._ Pas. _Ha, ha, my spleen is almost worn to the last laughter._ Bas. _Oh keep a corner for a friend, a jest may come hereafter._ _Enter_ Lapet _and_ Clown, _and four other like fools, dancing,_ _the_ Cupid _leading, and bearing his Table, and holding it_ _up to_ Lapet _at every strain, and acting the postures_. _Lap._ Twinge all now, twinge I say. 2 Strain. Souse upon Souse. 3 Strain. Douses single. 4 Strain. Justle sides. 5 Strain. Knee Belly. 6 Strain. Kicksee Buttock. 7 Strain. _La._ Downderry. _Enter Soldier_, Shamont_'s brother; his sword drawn_. _Sol._ Not angry Law, nor doors of Brass shall keep me, From my wrongs expiation to thy Bowels, I return my disgrace; and after turn My face to any death that can be sentenc'd. _Base._ Murder, oh murder, stop the murderer there-- _Lap._ I am glad he's gone; h'as almost trode my guts out; Follow him who list for me, I'll ha' no hand in't. _Clo._ Oh 'twas your luck and mine to be squelch'd, Mr. H'as stamp'd my very Puddings into Pancakes.