COR. This is worth the observation, signior. CAR. 1 CUP. Now, sir, here's to you; and I present you with so much of my love. 2 CUP. I take it kindly from you, sir. [DRINKS], and will return you the like proportion; but withal, sir, remembering the merry night we had at the countess's, you know where, sir. 1 CUP. By heaven, you put me in mind now of a very necessary office, which I will propose in your pledge, sir; the health of that honourable countess, and the sweet lady that sat by her, sir. 2 CUP. I do vail to it with reverence [DRINKS]. And now, signior, with these ladies, I'll be bold to mix the health of your divine mistress. 1 CUP. Do you know her, sir? 2 CUP. O lord, sir, ay; and in the respectful memory and mention of her, I could wish this wine were the most precious drug in the world. 1 CUP. Good faith, sir, you do honour me in't exceedingly. [DRINKS.] MIT. Whom should he personate in this, signior? COR. Faith, I know not, sir; observe, observe him. 2 CUP. If it were the basest filth, or mud that runs in the channel, I am bound to pledge it respectively, sir. [DRINKS.] And now, sir, here is a replenish'd bowl, which I will reciprocally turn upon you, to the health of the count Frugale. 1 CUP. The count Frugale's health, sir? I'll pledge it on my knees, by this light. [KNEELS. 2 CUP. Nay, do me right, sir. 1 CUP. So I do, in faith. 2 CUP. Good faith you do not; mine was fuller. 1 CUP. Why, believe me, it was not. 2 CUP. Believe me it was; and you do lie. 1 CUP. Lie, sir! 2 CUP. Ay, sir. 1 CUP. 'Swounds! you rascal! 2 CUP. O, come, stab if you have a mind to it. 1 CUP. Stab! dost thou think I dare not? CAR. [SPEAKS IN HIS OWN PERSON.] Nay, I beseech you, gentlemen, what means this? nay, look, for shame respect your reputations. [OVERTURNS WINE, POT, CUPS, AND ALL. ENTER MACILENTE. MACI. Why, how now, Carlo! what humour's this? CAR. O, my good mischief! art thou come? where are the rest, where are the rest? MACI. Faith, three of our ordnance are burst. CAR. Burst! how comes that? MACI. Faith, overcharged, overcharged. CAR. But did not the train hold? MACI. O, yes, and the poor lady is irrecoverably blown up. CAR. Why, but which of the munition is miscarried, ha? MACI. Imprimis, sir Puntarvolo; next, the Countenance and Resolution. CAR. How, how, for the love of wit? MACI. Troth, the Resolution is proved recreant; the Countenance hath changed his copy; and the passionate knight is shedding funeral tears over his departed dog. CAR. What! is his dog dead? MACI. Poison'd, 'tis thought; marry, how, or by whom, that's left for some cunning woman here o' the Bank-side to resolve. For my part, I know nothing more than that we are like to have an exceeding melancholy supper of it.