_Mir._ it seemes so, and she honest. _Bri._ Have I not Thy promise _Lilly_? _Lil._ Yes and I have performed Enough to a man of your yeares, this is truth, And you shall find Sir, you have kist and tows'd me, Handled my legg and foote, what would you more, Sir,? As for the rest, it requires youth and strength, And the labour in an old man would breed Agues, Sciaticaes, and Cramps; you shall not curse me, For taking from you what you cannot spare, Sir: Be good unto your selfe, y'ave tane alreadie All you can take with ease; you are past threshing, It is a worke too boisterous for you; leave Such drudgerie to _Andrew_. _Mir._ How she jeeres him? _Lil._ Let _Andrew_ alone with his owne tillage, Hee's tough, and can manure it. _Bri._ Y'are a queane, A scoffing jeering quean. _Lil._ It may be so, but I'me sure, Ile nere be yours. _Bri._ Doe not provoke me, If thou do'st, Ile have my Farm againe, and turne Thee out a begging. _Lil._ Though you have the will, And want of honestie to deny your Deed, Sir, Yet I hope _Andrew_ has got so much learning From my young Master, as to keep his own; At the worst, Ile tell a short tale to the Judges, For what grave ends you sign'd your Lease, and on What termes you would revoke it. _Bri._ Whore thou dar'st not. Yeeld or Ile have thee whipt; How my bloud boiles, As if t'were ore a furnace! _Mir._ I shall coole it. _Bri._ Yet gentle _Lilly_, pitie and forgive me, Ile be a friend t'ye, such a loving bountiful friend-- _Lil._ To avoid suites in Law, I would grant a litle, But should fierce _Andrew_ know it, what would become Of me? _And._ A whore, a whore! _Bri._ Nothing but well Wench, I will put such a strong bit in his mouth, As thou shalt ride him how thou wilt, my _Lilly_: Nay, he shall hold the doore, as I will worke him, And thank thee for the office. _Mir._ Take heed _Andrew_, These are shrewd temptations. _And._ Pray you know Your Cue, and second me Sir; By your Worships favour. _Bri._ _Andrew_! _And._ I come in time to take possession Of th' office you assigne me; hold the doore, Alas 'tis nothing for a simple man To stay without when a deepe understanding Holds conference within, say with his wife: A trifle Sir, I know I hold my farme In Cuckolds Tenure: you are Lord o'the soile Sir, _Lilly_ is a Weft, a Straie shee's yours, to use Sir, I claime no interest in her. _Bri._ Art thou serious? Speak honest _Andrew_, since thou hast oreheard us, And wink at small faults, man; I'me but a pidler, A little will serve my turne; thou'lt finde enough When I've my bellyfull; wilt thou be private And silent? _And._ By all meanes, Ile onely have A Ballad made of't, sung to some lewd Tune, And the name of it shall be _Justice Trap_, It will sell rarely with your Worships name, And _Lillies_ on the top. _Bri._ Seek not the ruine O' my reputation, _Andrew_. _And._ Tis for your credit, Monsieur _Brisac_ printed in capital letters, Then pasted upon all the posts in _Paris_.