ou shalt rule me, Andrew. O th'infinite fright that will assail
this Gentleman! the Quartans, Tertians, and Quotidians that will hang like
Serjeants on his Worships shoulders? the humiliation of the flesh of this
man, this grave, austere man will be wondred at. How will those solemn
looks appear to me; and that severe face, that speaks chains and shackles?
Now I take him in the nick, e're I have done with him, he had better have
stood between two panes of Wainscot, and made his recantation in the
Market, than hear me conjure him.

_And_. He must pass this way to th' only Bed I have; he comes, stand
close.

_Bri_. Well done, well done, give me my night-cap. So. Quick, quick,
untruss me; I will truss and trounce thee. Come, Wench, a kiss between
each point; kiss close, it is a sweet Parenthesis.

_Lil._ Y'are merry, Sir.

_Bri._ Merry I will be anon, and thou shalt feel it, thou shalt, my
_Lilly_.

_Lil._ Shall I air your Bed, Sir?

_Bri._ No, no; I'll use no Warming-pan but thine, Girl, that's all. Come
kiss me again.

_Lil._ Ha'ye done yet?

_Bri._ No; but I will do, and do wonders, _Lilly_. Shew me the way.

_Lil._ You cannot miss it, Sir; you shall have a Cawdle in the morning for
your Worship's breakfast.

_Bri._ How, i'th' morning, _Lilly_? th'art such a witty thing to draw me
on. Leave fooling, _Lilly_, I am hungry now, and th'hast another Kickshaw,
I must taste it.

_Lil._ 'Twill make you surfeit, I am tender of you: y'have all y'are like
to have.

_And._ And can this be earnest?

_Mir._ It seems so, and she honest.

_Bri._ Have I not thy promise, _Lilly_?

_Lil._ Yes, and I have performed enough to a man of your years, this is
truth; and you shall find, Sir, you have kiss'd and tous'd me, handl'd my
leg and foot; what would you more, Sir? As for the rest, it requires youth
and strength, and the labour in an old man would breed Agues, Sciatica's,
and Cramps: You shall not curse me for taking from you what you cannot
spare, Sir. Be good unto your self, y'have ta'ne already all you can take
with ease; you are past threshing, it is a work too boisterous for you,
leave such drudgery to _Andrew_.

_Mir._ How she jeers him!

_Lil._ Let _Andrew_ alone with his own tillage, he's tough, and can manure
it.

_Bri._ Y'are a quean, a scoffing, jeering quean.

_Lil._ It may be so, but I'm sure I'll ne'r be yours.

_Bri._ Do not provoke me, if thou do'st I'll have my Farm again, and turn
thee out a be