Old Lionel. Call thyself to mind. Reignald. Non-plussed or never now; where are thou, brain?-- O sir, where was my memory? ’Tis this house That next adjoins to yours. Old Lionel. My neighbour Ricott’s? Reignald. The same, the same, sir; we had pennyworths in’t; And I can tell you, have been offered well Since, to forsake our bargain. Old Lionel. As I live, I much commend your choice. Reignald. Nay, ’tis well seated, Rough-cast without, but bravely lined within; You have met with few such bargains. Old Lionel. Prithee knock, And call the master or the servant on’t, To let me take free view on’t. Reignald. [_Aside_.] Puzzle again on puzzle!--One word, sir: The house is full of women; no man knows How on the instant they may be employed; The rooms may lie unhandsome, and maids stand Much on their cleanliness and huswifery; To take them unprovided were disgrace; ’Twere fit they had some warning. Now, do you Fetch but a warrant from the justice, sir;-- You understand me? Old Lionel. Yes, I do. Reignald. To attach[3.34] Him of suspected murder; I’ll see’t served, Did he deny’t; and in the interim, I Will give them notice you are now arrived, And long to see your purchase. Old Lionel. Counselled well; And meet some half-hour hence. Reignald. This plunge well passed, All things fall even, to crown my brain at last. [_Exeunt_. SCENE III.--_Barnet. A Street_. _Enter_ Delavil _and a_ Gentleman. Gentleman. Where shall we dine to-day? Delavil. At the ordinary. I see, sir, you are but a stranger here. This Barnet is a place of great resort, And commonly, upon the market days, Here all the country gentlemen appoint A friendly meeting; some about affairs Of consequence and profit--bargain, sale, And to confer with chapmen; some for pleasure, To match their horses, wager on their dogs, Or try their hawks; some to no other end But only meet good company, discourse, Dine, drink, and spend their money. Gentleman. That’s the market We have to make this day. Delavil. ’Tis a commodity That will be easily vented.--What, my worthy friend! [_Enter_ Old Geraldine _and_ Young Geraldine.] You are happily encountered. Oh, you’re grown strange To one that much respects you. Troth, the house Hath all this time seemed naked without you; The good old man doth never sit to meat, But next his giving thanks he speaks of you; There’s scarce a bit that he at table tastes, That can digest without a Geraldine, You are in his mouth so frequent. He and she Both wondering what distaste from one, or either, So suddenly should alienate a guest To them so dearly welcome.