Let him go on, Sir, His wealth will build a Nunnery, a fair one, And this good Lady, when he is hang'd and rotten, May there be Abbess. _Bar_. You are cozen'd, honest Gentlemen, I do not forbid the use but the form, mark me. _Lop_. Form? what do you make of form? _Bar_. They will undo me, Swear, as I oft have done, and so betray me; I must make fair way, and hereafter, Wife, You are welcome home, and henceforth take your pleasure, Go when ye shall think fit, I will not hinder ye, My eyes are open now, and I see my errour, My shame, as great as that, but I must hide it. The whole conveyance now I smell, but _Basta_, Another time must serve: you see us friends, now Heartily friends, and no more chiding, Gentlemen, I have been too foolish, I confess, no more words, No more, sweet Wife. _Ama_. You know my easie nature. _Bar_. Go get ye in: you see she has been angry: Forbear her sight a while and time will pacify; And learn to be more bold. _Lean_. I would I could, I will do all I am able. [_Exit_. _Bar_. Do _Leandro_, We will not part, but friends of all hands. _Lop_. Well said, Now ye are reasonable, we can look on ye. _Bar_. Ye have jerkt me: but for all that I forgive ye, Forgive ye heartily, and do invite ye To morrow to a Breakfast, I make but seldom, But now we will be merry. _Ars_. Now ye are friendly, Your doggedness and niggardize flung from ye. And now we will come to ye. _Bar_. Give me your hands, all; You shall be welcome heartily. _Lop_. We will be, For we'll eat hard. _Bar_. The harder, the more welcome, And till the morning farewell; I have business. [_Exit_. _Mil_. Farewel good bountiful _Bartolus_, 'tis a brave wench, A suddain witty thief, and worth all service: Go we'll all go, and crucifie the Lawyer. _Die_. I'le clap four tire of teeth into my mouth more But I will grind his substance. _Ars_. Well _Leandro_, Thou hast had a strange Voyage, but I hope Thou rid'st now in safe harbour. _Mil_. Let's go drink, Friends, And laugh aloud at all our merry may-games. _Lop_. A match, a match, 'twill whet our stomachs better. [_Exeunt_. _Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._ _Enter_ Violante _and_ Servant. _Ser_. Madam, he's come. [_Chair and stools out_. _Viol_. 'Tis well, how did he look, When he knew from whom you were sent? was he not startled? Or confident? or fearful? _Ser_.