MER. Who’s found a thiefe, _Madam_. And to haue rob’d your Vsher, Maſter _Ambler_, This morning. TAY. How? MER. I’ll tell you more, anon. FIT. Gi me ſome _garlicke, garlicke, garlicke, garlicke_. _He beginnes his fit._ MER. Harke the poore Gentleman, how he is tormented! 25 FIT. _My wife is a whore, I’ll kiſſe her no more: and why? Ma’ſt not thou be a Cuckold, as well as I? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, &c._ POV. That is the _Diuell_ ſpeakes, and laughes in him. _The Iuſtice interpret all:_ MER. Do you thinke ſo, S^r. POV. I diſcharge my conſcience. 30 FIT. _And is not the Diuell good company? Yes, wis._ EVE. How he changes, Sir, his voyce! FIT. _And a Cuckold is Where ere hee put his head, with a_ a _Wanion, If his hornes be forth, the Diuells companion! Looke, looke, looke, elſe._ MER. How he foames! EVE. And ſwells! 35 TAY. O, me! what’s that there, riſes in his belly! EIT. A ſtrange thing! hold it downe: TRA. PIT. We cannot, _Madam_. POV. ’Tis too apparent this! FIT. _Wittipol, Wittipol._ Wittipol, _and_ Manly _and_ Mistr. Fitz-dottrel _enter_. WIT. How now, what play ha’ we here. MAN. What fine, new matters? WIT. The _Cockſcomb_, and the _Couerlet_. MER. O ſtrang impudēce! 40 That theſe ſhould come to face their ſinne! EVE. And out-face _Iuſtice_, they are the parties, Sir. POV. Say nothing. MER. Did you marke, Sir, vpon their comming in, How he call’d _Wittipol_. EVE. And neuer ſaw ’hem. POV. I warrant you did I, let ’hem play a while. 45 FIT. _Buz, buz, buz, buz._ TAY. Laſſe poore Gentleman! How he is tortur’d! M^rs. FI. Fie, Maſter _Fitz-dottrel_! What doe you meane to counterfait thus? FIT. _O, ô,_ _His wife goes to him._ _Shee comes with a needle, and thruſts it in,_ _Shee pulls out that, and ſhee puts in a pinne,_ 50 _And now, and now, I doe not know how, nor where,_ _But ſhee pricks mee heere, and ſhee pricks me there: ôh, ôh:_ POV. Woman forbeare. WIT. What, S^r? POV. A practice foule For one ſo faire: WIT. Hath this, then, credit with you? MAN. Do you beleeue in’t? POV. Gentlemen, I’ll diſcharge My conſcience. ’Tis a cleare conſpiracy! 56 A darke, and diuelliſh practice! I deteſt it!