ever fall
backward: but with as set a temper, as I would hear a Fidler, rise and
thank you. I can now keep my mony in my purse, that still was gadding out
for Scarfes and Wastcoats: and keep my hand from Mercers sheep-skins
finely. I can eat mutton now, and feast my self with my two shillings, and
can see a play for eighteen pence again: I can my Ladie.

_Lady_. The carriage of this fellow vexes me. Sir, pray let me speak a
little private with you, I must not suffer this.

_Elder Lo_. Ha, ha, ha, what would you with me?
You will not ravish me? Now, your set speech?

_Lady_. Thou perjur'd man.

_Elder Lo_. Ha, ha, ha, this is a fine _exordium_.
And why I pray you perjur'd?

_Lady_. Did you not swear a thousand thousand times you lov'd me best of
all things?

_Elder Lo_. I do confess it: make your best of that.

_Lady_. Why do you say you do not then?

_Elder Lo_. Nay I'le swear it,
And give sufficient reason, your own usage.

_Lady_. Do you not love me then?

_Elder Lo_. No faith.

_Lady_. Did you ever think I lov'd you dearly?

_Elder Lo_. Yes, but I see but rotten fruits on't.

_Lady_. Do not denie your hand for I must kiss it, and take my last
farewell, now let me die so you be happy.

_El. Lo_. I am too foolish: Ladie speak dear Ladie.

_Lady_. No let me die. _She swounds._

_Mar_. Oh my Sister!

_Abi_. O my Ladie help, help.

_Mar_. Run for some _Rosalis_!

_Elder Lo_. I have plaid the fine ass: bend her bodie, Lady, best,
dearest, worthiest Lady, hear your Servant, I am not as I shew'd: O
wretched fool, to fling away the Jewel of thy life thus. Give her more
air, see she begins to stir, sweet Mistress hear me!

_Lady_. Is my Servant well?

_Elder Lo_. In being yours I am so.

_Lady_. Then I care not.

_Elder Lo_. How do ye, reach a chair there; I confess my fault not
pardonable, in pursuing thus upon such tenderness my wilfull error; but
had I known it would have wrought thus with ye, thus strangely, not the
world had won me to it, and let not (my best Ladie) any word spoke to my
end disturb your quiet peace: for sooner shall you know a general ruine,
than my faith broken. Do not doubt this Mistris, for by my life I cannot
live without you. Come, come, you shall not grieve, rather be angrie, and
heap infliction upon me: I will suffer. O I could curse my self, pray
smile upon me. Upon my faith it was but a trick to trie you, knowing you
lov'd me dearlie, and yet strangely tha