Jenkin. His name’s Master Cranwell. God’s light, hark, within there, my master calls to lay more billets upon the fire. Come, come! Lord, how we that are in office here in the house are troubled! One spread the carpet in the parlour, and stand ready to snuff the lights; the rest be ready to prepare their stomachs. More lights in the hall there. Come, Nich’las. [_Exeunt all but_ Nicholas. Nicholas. I cannot eat, but had I Wendoll’s heart I would eat that; the rogue grows impudent. Oh, I have seen such vile notorious tricks, Ready to make my eyes dart from my head. I’ll tell my master, by this air I will! Fall what may fall, I’ll tell him. Here he comes. _Enter_ Frankford, _brushing the crumbs from his clothes with a napkin, as newly risen from supper_. Frankford. Nicholas, what make you here? why are not you At supper in the hall among your fellows? Nicholas. Master, I stayed your rising from the board, To speak with you. Frankford. Be brief, then, gentle Nicholas; My wife and guests attend me in the parlour. Why dost thou pause? Now, Nicholas, you want money, And, unthrift-like, would eat into your wages Ere you have earned it: here, sir, ’s half a crown; Play the good husband,[1.25] and away to supper. Nicholas. By this hand, an honourable gentleman! I will not see him wronged.--Sir, I have served you long; you entertained me seven years before your beard.[1.26] You knew me, sir, before you knew my mistress. Frankford. What of this, good Nicholas? Nicholas. I never was a make-bate[1.27] or a knave; I have no fault but one: I’m given to quarrel, But not with women. I will tell you, master, That which will make your heart leap from your breast, Your hair to startle from your head, your ears to tingle. Frankford. What preparation’s this to dismal news? Nicholas. ’Sblood, sir! I love you better than your wife; I’ll make it good. Frankford. You are a knave, and I have much ado With wonted patience to contain my rage, And not to break thy pate. Thou art a knave: I’ll turn you, with your base comparisons, Out of my doors. Nicholas. Do, do: there is not room For Wendoll and for me both in one house. Oh master, master, that Wendoll is a villain. Frankford. Ay, saucy! Nicholas. Strike, strike; do, strike; yet hear me: I am no fool, I know a villain, when I see him act Deeds of a villain. Master, master, that base slave Enjoys my mistress, and dishonours you. Frankford. Thou hast killed me with a weapon whose sharp point Hath pricked quite through and through my shivering heart: Drops of cold sweat sit dangling on my hairs, Like morning’s dew upon the golden flowers, And I am plunged into strange agonies. What didst thou say? If any word that touched His credit or her reputation, It is as hard to enter my belief As Dives into heaven.