gging.

_Lil._ Though you have the will, and want of honesty to deny your deed,
Sir; yet I hope _Andrew_ has got so much learning from my young Master, as
to keep his own; at the worst I'll tell a short tale to the Judges, for
what grave ends you sign'd your Lease, and on what terms you would revoke
it.

_Bri_. Whore, thou dar'st not. Yield, or I'll have thee whipt: how my
Bloud boils, as if't were o're a Furnace!

_Mir_. I shall cool it.

_Bri_. Yet, gentle _Lilly_, pity and forgive me, I'll be a friend t'ye,
such a loving bountiful friend--

_Lil_. To avoid Suits in Law, I would grant a little; but should fierce
_Andrew_ know it, what would become of me?

_And_. A Whore, a Whore!

_Bri_. Nothing but well Wench, I shall put such a strong Bit in his mouth,
as thou shall ride him how thou wilt, my _Lilly_; nay, he shall hold the
door, as I will work him, and thank thee for the Office.

_Mir_. Take heed, _Andrew_, these are shrewd temptations.

_And_. Pray you know your Cue, and second me, Sir. By your Worship's
favour.

_Bri_. _Andrew_!

_And_. I come in time to take possession of th'Office you assign me; hold
the door! alas, 'tis nothing for a simple man to stay without, when a deep
understanding holds conference within, say with his Wife: a trifle, Sir. I
know I hold my Farm by Cuckolds Tenure; you are Lord o'th' Soil, Sir.
_Lilly_ is a Weft, a stray, she's yours to use, Sir, I claim no interest
in her.

_Bri_. Art thou serious? speak, honest _Andrew_, since thou hast o'erheard
us, and wink at small faults, man; I'm but a pidlar, a little will serve
my turn; thou'lt find enough when I've my belly full: Wilt thou be private
and silent?

_And_. By all means, I'll only have a Ballad made of't, sung to some lewd
Tune, and the name of it shall be _Justice Trap_; it will sell rarely with
your Worships name, and _Lilly_'s on the top.

_Bri_. Seek not the ruine o' my reputation, _Andrew_.

_And_. 'Tis for your credit, Monsieur _Brisac_, printed in Capital
Letters, then pasted upon all the posts in _Paris_.

_Bri_. No mercy, _Andrew_?

_And_. O, it will proclaim you from the City to the Court, and prove Sport
Royal.

_Bri_. Thou shalt keep thy Farm.

_Mir_. He does afflict him rarely.

_And_. You trouble me. Then his intent arriving, the vizard of his
hypocrisie pull'd of[f] to the Judge criminal.

_Bri_. O I am undone.

_And_. He's put out of Commission with disgrace, and held uncapable of
bearin