_Are._ Would you practise upon me? _Fre._ I first salute you, You have a soft hand Madam, are you so All over? _Are._ Nephew. _Fre._ Nay you should but smile, And then agen I kisse you; and thus draw Off your white glove, and start to see your hand More excellently white, I grace my owne Lip with this touch, and turning gently thus, Prepare you for my skill in Palmistry, Which out of curiosity no Lady But easily applies too, the first line I tooke with most ambition to find out, Is _Venus_ girdle, a faire semicircle Enclosing both the mount of _Sol_ and _Saturne_, If that appeare, she's for my turne, a Lady Whom nature has prepar'd for the careere, And _Cupid_ at my elbow, I put forward, You have this very line, Aunt. _Are._ The boy's franticke. _Fre._ You have a Couch or Palate, I can shut The Chamber doore, enrich a stranger when Your Nephew's comming into play. _Are._ No more. _Fre._ Are you so coy to your owne flesh and bloud? _Al._ Here take your playfellow, I talke of sport, And she would have me marry her. _Fre._ Heres _Littleworth_. _Enter Littleworth wet._ Why how now Tutour? _Lit._ I ha beene fishing. _Fr._ And what ha you caught? _Lit._ My belly full of water. _Al._ Ha ha, wheres thy rapier? _Lit._ My rapier's is drown'd, And I am little better, I was up bi'th heeles, And out came a tun of water beside wine. _Al._ 'T has made thee sober. _Lit._ Would you have me drunk With Water? _Are._ I hope your fire is quenched by this time. _Fre._ It is not now, as when your worship walkd By all the tavernes _Jacke_, drie as a bone. _Al._ You had store of fish under water _Jacke_. _Lit._ It has made a poore _John_ of me. _Fre._ J doe not thinke but if we cast an angle Jnto his belly, we might find some Pilchards. _Lit._ And boild by this time, deere Madam a bed. _Al._ Carry but the water Spaniel to a grasseplot Where he may roule himselfe, let him but shake His eares twice in the Sunne, and you may grind him Into a posset. _Fre._ Come thou shalt to my bed Poore pickerell. _De._ Alas sweete gentleman. _Lit._ I have ill lucke, and I should smell by this time, I am but new tane I am sure, sweet gentlewoman. _De._ Your servant. _Lit._ Pray doe not plucke off my skin, It is so wet, unlesse you have good eyes You'le hardly know it from a shirt. _De._ Feare nothing. _Are._ He has sacke enough, and I may find his humor. _Exeunt._ _Al._ And how ist with your Ladiship? you looke Without a sunshine in your face. _Are._ You are glorious In mind and habit. _Al._ Ends of gold and silver.