_Sir Jol._ I'll have nothing to do in it; I won't be seen in the business of matrimony. Make me a match-maker, a filthy marriage-broker! sir, I scorn it, I know better things. Look you, friend, to carry her a letter from you or so, upon good terms, though it be in a church, I'll deliver it; or when the business is come to an issue, if I may bring you handsomely together, and so forth, I'll serve thee with all my soul, and thank thee into the bargain; thank thee heartily, dear rogue; I will, you little cock-sparrow, faith and troth, I will: but no matrimony, friend, I'll have nothing to do with matrimony; 'tis a damned invention, worse than a monopoly, and a destroyer of civil correspondence. _Re-enter_ Drawer. _Draw._ Gentlemen, your room is ready, your wine and ice upon the table; will your honours please to walk in? _Sir Jol._ Ay, wine, wine, give us wine! a pox on matrimony--matrimony, in the devil's name! _Cour._ But if an honest harlot or two chance to inquire for us, friend-- _Sir Jol._ Right, sirrah, if whores come never so many, give 'em reverence and reception, but nothing else; let nothing but whores and bottles come near us, as you tender your ears. [_A door is opened, discovering a table, with bottles, &c._ _Beau._ Why, there's, there's the land of Canaan now in little. Hark you, drawer, dog, shut, shut the door, sirrah, do you hear? Shut it so close that neither cares nor necessities may peep in upon us. [_Exeunt_ BEAUGARD, COURTINE, _and_ Sir JOLLY. _Enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE, FOURBIN, _and_ BLOODY-BONES. _Four._ Bloody-Bones, be sure to behave yourself handsomely, and like your profession; show yourself a cut-throat of parts, and we'll fleece him. _Bloody-B._ My lady says, we must be expeditious; Sir Jolly has given notice to the captain by this time, so that nothing is wanting but the management of this over-grown gull to make us hectors at large, and keep the whore Fortune under. _Draw._ Welcome, gentlemen, very welcome, sir; will't please you to walk into a room? Or shall I wait upon your honour's pleasure here? _Sir Dav._ Sweetheart, let us be quiet, and bring us wine hither. [_Exit_ Drawer, _who returns with wine_.] So--[_sits down_]--from this moment, war, war, and mortal dudgeon against that enemy of my honour, and thief of my good name, called Beaugard. You can cut a throat upon occasion you say, friend? _Four._ Sir, cutting of throats is my hereditary vocation; my father was hanged for cutting of throats before me, and my mother for cutting of purses. _Sir Dav._ No more to be said; my courage is mounted like a little Frenchman upon a great horse, and I'll have him murdered. _Four._ Sir! murdered you say, sir?