Enter_ Welford.

_Wel_. This is the strangest pampered piece of flesh towards fifty, that
ever frailty copt withal, what a trim _lennoy_ here she has put upon me;
these women are a proud kind of Cattel, and love this whorson doing so
directly, that they will not stick to make their very skins Bawdes to
their flesh. Here's Dogskin and Storax sufficient to kill a Hawk: what to
do with it, besides nailing it up amongst _Irish_ heads of Teere, to shew
the mightiness of her Palm, I know not: there she is. I must enter into
Dialogue. Lady you have lost your Glove.

_Abig_. Not Sir, if you have found it.

_Wel_. It was my meaning Lady to restore it.

_Abig_. 'Twill be uncivil in me to take back a favour, Fortune hath so
well bestowed Sir, pray wear it for me.

_Wel_. I had rather wear a Bell. But hark you Mistres, what hidden vertue
is there in this Glove, that you would have me wear it? Is't good against
sore eyes, or will it charm the Toothach? Or these red tops; being steept
in white wine soluble, wil't kill the Itch? Or has it so conceal'd a
providence to keep my hand from Bonds? If it have none of these and prove
no more but a bare Glove of half a Crown a pair, 'twill be but half a
courtesie, I wear two alwayes, faith let's draw cuts, one will do me no
pleasure.

_Abig_. The tenderness of his years keeps him as yet in ignorance, he's a
well moulded fellow, and I wonder his bloud should stir no higher; but
'tis his want of company: I must grow nearer to him.

_Enter_ Elder Loveless _disguised._

_Elder Lo_. God save you both.

_Abig_. And pardon you Sir; this is somewhat rude, how came you hither?

_Elder Lo_. Why through the doors, they are open.

_Wel_. What are you? And what business have you here?

_Elder Lo_. More I believe than you have.

_Abig_. Who would this fellow speak with? Art thou sober?

_Elder Lo_. Yes, I come not here to sleep.

_Wel_. Prethee what art thou?

_Elder Lo_. As much (gay man) as thou art, I am a Gentleman.

_Wel_. Art thou no more?

_Elder Lo_. Yes more than thou dar'st be; a Souldier.

_Abig_. Thou dost not come to quarrel?

_Elder Lo_. No, not with women; I come to speak here with a Gentlewoman.

_Abig_. Why, I am one.

_Elder Lo_. But not with one so gentle.

_Wel_. This is a fine fellow.

_Elder Lo_. Sir, I am not fine yet. I am but new come over, direct me with
your ticket to your Taylor, and then I shall be fine Sir. Lady if there be
a better of your Sex wit