Spencer. Pillage, captain! No, ’tis for honour; and the brave society Of all these shining gallants, that attend The great lord-general, drew me hither first, No hope of gain or spoil. Goodlack. Ay, but what draws you to this house so oft? Spencer. As if thou knew’st it not. Goodlack. What, Bess? Spencer. Even she. Goodlack. Come, I must tell you, you forget yourself, One of your birth and breeding thus to dote Upon a tanner’s daughter! why, her father Sold hides in Somersetshire, and, being trade-fallen, Sent her to service. Spencer. Prithee speak no more; Thou tell’st me that which I would fain forget, Or wish I had not known. If thou wilt humour me, Tell me she’s fair and honest. Goodlack. Yes, and loves you. Spencer. To forget that were to exclude the rest: All saving that were nothing. Come, let’s enter. [_Exeunt_. SCENE III.--_A Room in the Castle Tavern_. _Enter_ Spencer, Captain Goodlack, _and two_ Drawers. 1st Drawer. You are welcome, gentlemen.--Show them into the next room there. 2nd Drawer. Look out a towel, and some rolls, a salt and trenchers. Spencer. No, sir, we will not dine. 2nd Drawer. I am sure ye would, if you had my stomach. What wine drink ye, sack or claret? Spencer. Where’s Bess? 2nd Drawer. Marry, above, with three or four gentlemen. Spencer. Go call her. 2nd Drawer. I’ll draw you a cup of the neatest wine in Plymouth. Spencer. I’ll taste none of your drawing. Go call Bess. 2nd Drawer. There’s nothing in the mouths of these gallants but “Bess, Bess.” Spencer. What say y’, sir? 2nd Drawer. Nothing, sir, but I’ll go and call her presently. Spencer. Tell her who’s here. 2nd Drawer. The devil rid her out of the house, for me! Spencer. Say y’, sir? 2nd Drawer. Nothing but anon, anon, sir. _Enter_ Bess Bridges. Spencer. See, she’s come! Bess. Sweet Master Spencer, y’are a stranger grown. Where have you been these three days? Spencer. The last night I sat up late at game. Here, take this bag, And lay’t up till I call for’t. Bess. Sir, I shall. Spencer. Bring me some wine. Bess. I know your taste, And I shall please your palate. [_Exit_. Goodlack. Troth, ’tis a pretty soul! Spencer. To thee I will unbosom all my thoughts: Were her low birth but equal with her beauty, Here would I fix my thoughts. Goodlack. You are not mad, sir? You say you love her. Spencer. Never question that. Goodlack. Then put her to’t; win Opportunity, She’s the best bawd. If, as you say, she loves you, She can deny you nothing. Spencer. I have proved her Unto the utmost test; examined her, Even to a modest force; but all in vain: She’ll laugh, confer, keep company, discourse, And something more, kiss; but beyond that compass She no way can be drawn. Goodlack. ’Tis a virtue But seldom found in taverns. _Re-enter_ Bess, _with wine_.