ts so dejected! 'tis fitt for groomes,
not men magnanimous, to be so bashfull: speake boldly to them, that like
cannon shott your breath may batter; you would hardly dare to take in
townes and expugne fortresses, that cannot demolish a paltry woman.

_Crac_. Pox of this Country, it has metamorphisd me. Would I were in my
native Citty ayre agen, within the wholesome smell of seacole: the
vapor[s] rising from the lands new dunged are more infectious to me then
the common sewer ith sicknes time. Ime certaine of my selfe Ime impudent
enough and can dissemble as well as ere my Father did to gett his
wealth, but this country has tane my edge of quite; but I begin to sound
the reason of it.

_Suc_. What may it be imagind.

_Crac_. Why, here are no Taverns where for my crowne I can have food
provocative, besides the gaining of many precious phrase[s] for (from?)
divers gallants new frenchefied. Theirs nothing to excite desire but
creame and eggs, and they are so common every clowne devoures them. Were
each egge at twelve pence, or as deare as lobsters, I could afford to
eate them, but I hate all that is vulgar; 'tis most base.

_Suc_. Pish, tis dificience in your resolution:
Suppose your mistress were an enemy
You were to encounter in sterne duell.

_Crac_. 'Tis well my Enemie is a woman; I should feare else to suppose
the meeting. Resolution! how can a man have resolution that drinkes
nought but ale able to kill a Dutchman? Conduit water is nector to it,

_Suc_. Nay, but I say, suppose--

_Crac_. Suppose! Why here are no wenches halfe so amorous as Citty
tripennies[62]: those that are bewtifull the dew is not so cold. I did
but begg a curtesie of a chambermaide, and she laughd at me! Ile to the
Citty againe, that's certaine; where for my angell I can imbrace
pl[enty]. If I stay here a little longer, for want of exercise I shall
forget whether a woman be fish or flesh: I have almost don't already.

_Suc_. O, heeres your uncle, move him; you conceive me;
He must disburse.

_Crac_. And 'tis as hard to wrest a penny from him as from a bawd.

_Enter Sir Gefferie and Bunche_.

_Sir Geff_. Erect that locke a little; theres a hayre
Which, like a foreman of a shop, does strive
To be above his fellowes. Pish! this glasse
Is falsly silverd, maks me look as gray
As if I were 4 score.

_Bun_. What does he want of it?

_Sir Geff_. Combe with more circumspection, knave; these perfumes
Have a dull odor; there is meale am