_Gond._ Now do I sit like a Conjurer within my circle, and these the Devils that are rais'd about me, I will pray that they may have no power upon me. _Oria._ Ladies, fall off in couples, then with a [s]oft still march, with low demeanors, charge this Gentleman, I'll be your Leader. _Gond._ Let me be quarter'd Duke quickly, I can endure it: these women long for Mans flesh, let them have it. _Duke._ Count, have you ever seen so strange a passion? what would this fellow do, if he should find himself in bed with a young Lady? _Count._ 'Faith my Lord, if he could get a knife, sure he wou'd cut her throat, or else he wou'd do as _Hercules_ did by _Lycas_, swing out her soul: h'as the true hate of a woman in him. _Oria._ Low with your Cursies Ladies. _Gond._ Come not too near me, I have a breath will poison ye, my lungs are rotten, and my stomach is raw: I am given much to belching: hold off, as you love sweet airs; Ladies, by your first nights pleasure, I conjure you, as you wou'd have your Husbands proper men, strong backs, and little legs, as you would have 'em hate your Waiting-women. _Oria._ Sir, we must court ye, till we have obtain'd some little favour from those gracious eyes, 'tis but a kiss a piece. _Gond._ I pronounce perdition to ye all; ye are a parcel of that damned crew that fell down with _Lucifer_, and here ye staid on earth to plague poor men; vanish, avaunt, I am fortified against your charms; heaven grant me breath and patience. _1 Lady._ Shall we not kiss then? _Gond._ No sear my lips with hot irons first, or stitch them up like a Ferrets: oh that this brunt were over! _2 Lady._ Come, come, little rogue, thou art too maidenly by my troth, I think I must box thee till thou be'st bolder; the more bold, the more welcome: I prethee kiss me, be not afraid. [_She sits on his knee._ _Gond._ If there be any here, that yet have so much of the fool left in them, as to love their mothers, let them [looke] on her, and loath them too. _2 Lady._ What a slovenly little villain art thou, why dost thou not stroke up thy hair? I think thou ne'er comb'st it: I must have it lie in better order; so, so, so, let me see thy hands, are they wash'd? _Gond._ I would th[e]y were loose for thy sake. _Duke._ She tortures him admirably. _Count._ The best that ever was. _2 Lady._ Alas, how cold they are, poor golls, why dost thee not get thee a Muff? _Arri._ Madam, here's an old Countrey Gentlewoman at the door, that came nodding up for justice, she was with the Lord _Gondarino_ to day, and would now again come to the speech of him, she says. _Oria._ Let her in, for sports sake, let her in.