_Wel_. Good angry thing I'le tell you: This is no place for such companions, Such lousie Gentlemen shall find their business Better i'th' Suburbs, there your strong pitch perfume, Mingled with lees of Ale, shall reek in fashion: This is no Thames-street, Sir. _Abig_. This Gentleman informs you truly: Prethee be satisfied, and seek the Suburbs, Good Captain, or what ever title else, The Warlike Eele-boats have bestowed upon thee, Go and reform thy self, prethee be sweeter, And know my Lady speaks with no Swabbers. _Elder Lo_. You cannot talk me out with your tradition Of wit you pick from Plays, go to, I have found ye: And for you, Sir, whose tender gentle blood Runs in your Nose, and makes you snuff at all, But three pil'd people, I do let you know, He that begot your worships Sattin-sute, Can make no men Sir: I will see this Lady, And with the reverence of your silkenship, In these old Ornaments. _Wel_. You will not sure? _Elder Lo_. Sure Sir I shall. _Abig_. You would be beaten out? _Elder Lo_. Indeed I would not, or if I would be beaten, Pray who shall beat me? this good Gentleman Looks as if he were o'th' peace. _Wel_. Sir you shall see that: will you get you out? _Elder Lo_. Yes, that, that shall correct your boys tongue. Dare you fight, I will stay here still. [_They draw._ _Abig_. O their things are out, help, help for Gods sake, Madam; Jesus they foin at one another. _Enter_ Lady. Madam, why, who is within there? _Lady_. Who breeds this rudeness? _Wel._ This uncivil fellow; He saies he comes from Sea, where I believe, H'as purg'd away his manners. _Lady._ Why what of him? _Wel._ Why he will rudely without once God bless you, Press to your privacies, and no denial Must stand betwixt your person and his business; I let go his ill Language. _Lady._ Sir, have you business with me? _Elder Lo._ Madam some I have, But not so serious to pawn my life for't: If you keep this quarter, and maintain about you Such Knights o'th' _Sun_ as this is, to defie Men of imployment to ye, you may live, But in what fame? _Lady._ Pray stay Sir, who has wrong'd you? _Elder Lo._ Wrong me he cannot, though uncivilly He flung his wild words at me: but to you I think he did no honour, to deny The hast I come withal, a passage to you, Though I seem course.