_Vitry._ If you affect cheapness, how can you prize this sullied ware so much? mine is fresh, my own, not retail'd. _Pro._ You are saucy, sirrah. _Vitry._ The fitter to be in the dish with such dry Stock-fish as you are, how, strike? _Bawdb._ Remember the condition as you look for payment. _Vitry._ That box was left out of the bargain. _Pro._ Help, help, help. _Bawdb._ Plague of the Scriveners running hand, What a blow is this to my reputation! _Enter_ Thierry, Theodoret, Brunhalt, Ordella, Memberge, Martell. _Thier._ What villain dares this outrage? _Devitry._ Hear me, Sir, this creature hir'd me with fifty crowns in hand, to let _Protaldye_ have the better of me at single Rapier on a made quarrel; he mistaking the weapon, laies me over the chops with his club fist, for which I was bold to teach him the Art of memory. _Omnes._ Ha, ha, ha, ha. _Theo._ Your General, Mother, will display himself. 'Spight of our Peace I see. _Thier._ Forbear these civil jars, fie _Protaldy_, So open in your projects, avoid our presence, sirrah. _Devi._ Willingly; if you have any more wages to earn, You see I can take pains. _Theo._ There's somewhat for thy labour, More than was promis'd, ha, ha, ha. _Bawdb._ Where could I wish my self now? in the _Isle of Dogs_. So I might scape scratching, for I see by her Cats eyes I shall be claw'd fearfully. _Thier._ We'll hear no more on't, [_Soft Musick._ Musick drown all sadness; Command the Revellers in, at what a rate I do purchase My Mothers absence, to give my spleen full liberty. _Brun._ Speak not a thoughts delay, it names thy ruin. _Pro._ I had thought my life had born[e] more value with you. _Brun._ Thy loss carries mine with't, let that secure thee. The vault is ready, and the door conveys to't Falls just behind his chair, the blow once given, Thou art unseen. _Pro._ I cannot feel more than I fear, I'm sure. [_Withdraws._ _Brun._ Be gone, and let them laugh their own destruction. _Thier._ You will add unto her rage. _Theod._ 'Foot, I shall burst, unless I vent my self, ha, ha, ha. _Brun._ Me Sir, you never could Have found a time to invite more willingness In my dispose to pleasure. _Memb._ Would you would please to make some other choise. _Revel._ 'Tis a disgrace would dwell upon me, Lady, Should you refuse. _Memb._ Your reason conquers; my Grandmothers looks Have turn'd all air to earth in me, they sit Upon my heart like night-charms, black and heavy. [_They Dance._ _Thier._ You are too much libertine. _Theod._ The fortune of the fool perswades my laughter More than his cowardize; was ever Rat Ta'en by the tail thus? ha, ha, ha.