_Casta._ Out with it, God's name. _Gab._ The Closset of my heart, I will lock here, wench, [Laval _knocks within_. And things shall make ye tremble. Who's that knocks there? _Mar._ 'Tis _Lavall_. _Gab._ Sit you still. Let him in. I am resolv'd, and all you wronged women, You noble spirits, that as I have suffer'd Under this glorious beast-insulting man, Lend me your causes, then your cruelties, For I must put on madness above women. _Cast._ Why do you look so ghastly? _Gab._ Peace; no harm, Deer. _Enter_ Lavall. _Lav._ There, take my cloak and sword: Where is this Banquet? _Mar._ In the next room. _Casta._ How came he here? Heaven bless me. _Lav._ Give me some Wine wench; fill it full, and sprightly. _Gab._ Sit still, and be not fearful. _Lav._ Till my veins swell, And my strong sinews stretch like that brave _Centaur_, That at the Table snatch'd the Bride away In spight of _Hercules_. _Casta._ I am betraid. _Lav._ Nay, start not Lady; 'tis for you that I come, And for your beauty: 'tis for you, _Lavall_ Honors this night; to you, the sacred shrine I humbly bow, offering my vows and prayers; To you I live. _Gab._ In with the powder quickly: So, that and the Wine will rock ye. [_Lav._ Here, to the health] Of the most beauteous and divine, fair _Casta_, The star of sweetness. _Gab._ Fear him not, I'll die first. And who shall pledge ye? _Lav._ Thou shalt, thou tann'd Gipsey: And worship to that brightness give, cold _Tartar_. By ---- ye shall not stir; ye are my Mistris, The glory of my love, the great adventure, The Mistris of my heart, and she my whore. _Gab._ Thou ly'st, base, beastly Lord; drunker then anger, Thou sowsed Lord, got by a surfeit, thou lyest basely. Nay, stir not: I dare tell thee so. Sit you still. If I be whore, it is in marrying thee, That art so absolute and full a villain, No Sacrament can save that piece tied to thee. How often hast thou woo'd in those flatteries, Almost those very words, my constancie? What goddess have I not been, or what goodness What star that is of any name in Heaven, Or brightness? which of all the virtues (But drunkenness, and drabbing, thy two morals) Have not I reach'd to? what Spring was ever sweeter? What _Scythian_ snow so white? what crystal chaster? Is not thy new wife now the same too? Hang thee, Base Bigamist, thou honor of ill women. _Casta._ How's this? O! Heaven defend me. _Gab._ Thou salt-itch, For whom no cure but ever burning brimstone Can be imagin'd. _Lav._ Ha, ha, ha. _Gab._ Dost thou laugh, thou breaker Of all law, all religion, of all faith Thou Soule contemner? _Lav._ Peace, thou paltry woman: And sit by me, Sweet.