ere lazy, and not minded to go so far, 'twere but
stepping over sea, and borrowing so much money out of his own bank at
Amsterdam: hang it, what's an hundred pounds between him and me?
Now does my heart go pit-a-pat, for fear I should not find the money
there: I would fain lift it up to see, and yet I am so afraid of
missing: Yet a plague, why should I fear he'll fail me; the name of a
friend's a sacred thing; sure he'll consider that. Methinks, this hat
looks as if it should have something under it: If one could see the
yellow boys peeping underneath the brims now: Ha! [_Looks under
round about_.] In my conscience I think I do. Stand out o'the way,
sirrah, and be ready to gather up the pieces, that will flush out of
the hat as I take it up.

_Boy_. What, is my master mad, trow?

[LOVEBY _snatches up the hat, looks in it hastily, and sees nothing
but the paper_.

_Low_. Now, the devil take the devil! A plague! was ever man
served so as I am! [_Throws his hat upon the ground_.] To break
the bands of amity for one hundred pieces! Well, it shall be more out
of thy way than thou imaginest, devil: I'll turn parson, and be at
open defiance with thee: I'll lay the wickedness of all people upon
thee, though thou art never so innocent; I'll convert thy bawds and
whores; I'll Hector thy gamesters, that they shall not dare to swear,
curse, or bubble; nay, I'll set thee out so, that thy very usurers and
aldermen shall fear to have to do with thee.

[_A noise within of_ ISABELLA _and_ FRANCES.

_Enter_ FRANCES, _thrusting back_ ISABELLA _and_
TIMOROUS.

_Franc_. How now, what's the matter?

_Isa_. Nay, sweet mistress, be not so hard-hearted; all I desire
of you is but harbour for a minute: you cannot, in humanity, deny that
small succour to a gentlewoman.

_Franc_. A gentlewoman! I thought so; my house, affords no
harbour for gentlewomen: you are a company of proud harlotries: I'll
teach you to take place of tradesmen's wives, with a wannion to you.

_Lov_. How's this! Madam Isabella!

_Isa_. Mr Loveby! how happy am I to meet with you in my distress!

_Lov_. What's the matter, madam?

_Isa_. I'll tell you, if this gentlewoman will give me leave.

_Franc_. No, gentlewoman, I will not give you leave; they are
such as we maintain your pride, as they say. [ISABELLA _and_
LOVEBY _whisper_.] Our husbands trust you, and you must go before
their wives. I am sure my good-man never goes to any of your lodgings,
but he comes