dge we shall dine under?
Shall we feed gratis?

_Mar._ I know not what to think:
Pray you, make me not mad.

_Enter_ Order.

_Order._ This place becomes you not:
'Pray you, walk sir, to the dining room.

_Wellb._ I am well here,
Till her ladyship quits her chamber.

_Mar._ Well here, say you!
'Tis a rare change! but yesterday, you thought
Yourself well in a barn, wrapp'd up in pease-straw.

_Enter_ Woman _and_ Chambermaid.

_Wom._ O sir, you are wish'd for.

_Chamb._ My lady dreamt, sir, of you.

_Wom._ And the first command she gave
After she rose, was to give her notice
When you approached here.

_Order._ Sir, my lady.

_Exit._

_Enter_ Lady Allworth.--_Salutes him._

_Lady A._ I come to meet you, and languished till I saw you.
This first kiss for form: I allow a second,
As token of my friendship.

_Mar._ Heaven bless me!

_Wellb._ I am wholly yours; yet, madam, if you please
To grace this gentleman with a salute----

_Mar._ Salute me at his bidding!

_Wellb._ I shall receive it
As a most high favour. [_To_ Marall.

_Lady A._ Sir, your friends are welcome to me.

_Wellb._ Run backward from a lady! and such a lady!

_Mar._ To kiss her foot, is to poor me, a favour
I am unworthy of. [_Offers to kiss her Foot._

_Lady A._ Nay, pray you rise;
And since you are so humble, I'll exalt you:
You shall dine with me to-day at mine own table.

_Mar._ Your ladyship's table! I am not good enough
To sit at your steward's.

_Lady A._ You are too modest:
I will not be denied.

_Enter_ Order.

_Order._ Dinner is ready for your ladyship.

_Lady A._ Your arm, Mr. Wellborn:
Nay, keep us company.

_Mar._ I was never so grac'd. Mercy on me!

[_Exeunt_ Wellborn, Lady Allworth, Amble, _and_ Marall.

_Enter_ Furnace.

_Order._ So, we have play'd our parts, and are come off well.
But if I know the mystery, why my lady
Consented to it, or why Mr. Wellborn
Desir'd it, may I perish!

_Fur._ 'Would I had
The roasting of his heart, that cheated him,
And forces the poor gentleman to these shifts!
Of all the griping and extorting tyrants
I ever heard or read of, I never met
A match to Sir Giles Overreach.

_Watch._ What will you take
To tell him so, fellow Furnace?

_Fur._ Just as much
As my throat is worth, for that would be the price on't.
To have a usurer that starves himself,
And wears a cloak of one and twenty years
On a suit of fourteen groats, bought of the hangman,
To grow rich, is t