_Lor._ I ha thought better, call the Lady backe, I wonot lose this opportunitie, Bid her not feare, the favour is not common, And ile reward it. I doe wonder much _Will Sentlove_ was not here to day. _Ha._ I heard him say this morning, he would waite Vpon your Lordship. She is returnd sir. _Enter Secre. and Decoy._ _Sec._ Madam be confident my Lords not angry. _Bor._ You returne welcome Madam, you are better Read in your art I hope then to be frighted With any shape of anger, when you bring Such newes to gentlemen, Madam you shall Soone understand how I accept the office. _De._ You are the first Lord, since I studied carriage, That shew'd such infidelity and fury Vpon so kind a message, every gentleman Will shew some breeding, but if one right honourable Should not have noble bloud. _Lor._ You shall returne My complement in a letter to my Lady _Aretina_, favour me with a little patience, Shew her that chamber. _De._ Ile attend your Lordship. _Ex._ _Lor._ Write, Madam where your honour is in danger, My love must not be silent. _Enter Sentlove and Kickshaw._ _Sentlove_ and _Kickshaw_! _Kic._ Your Lordship's busie. _Lor._ Writing a letter, nay it shanot barre Any discourse. _Sec._----Silent. _Lo._ Though I be no Physitian, I may prevent a feaver in your bloud, And where have you spent the mornings conversation? _Sent._ Where you would have given the best Barbary In your stable to have met on honorable termes. _Lor._ What new beautie? You acquaint your selves With none but wonders. _Sent._ Tis too low a miracle. _Lor._ Twill require a strong faith. _Secr._ Your bloud. _Lor._ If you be innocent preserve your fame least this _Decoy_ Madam betray it to your repentance. By what name is she knowne? _Sent._ Aske _Alexander_, he knowes her? _Alex._ Whom? _Sent._ The Lady _Celestina_. _Lor._ He has a vast knowledge of Ladies, las poore _Alexander_! When dost thou meane thy body shall lie fallow? _Al._ When there is mercy in a petticote, I must turne pilgrime for some breath. _Lor._ I thinke Twere cooler travell if you examine it Vpon the hoofe through Spaine. _Sent._ Through _Ethiopia_. _Lor._ Nay lesse laborious to serve a prentiship In Peru, and dig gold out of the mine, Though all the yeare were dogdayes. _Sec._ To repentance. _Lor._ In briefe, this Lady, could you fall from vertue, Within my knowledge will not blush to be a Bawde. _Sent._ But hang't tis honorable journey worke, Thou art famous by't, and thy name's up. _Alex._ So sir, let me aske you a question my deare knight, Which is lesse servile to bring up the Pheasant, And waite, or sit at table uncontrould And carve to my owne appetite? _Sent._ No more, Th'art witty, as I am--_Sec._ A bawd. _Sent._ How's that? _Al._ Oh you are famous by't and your names up sir.