ther to be
dumb than blind.

_Lucr._ I hope the small Deity is in good Health, Sir?

_Isab._ And his Mistress _Psyche_, Sir?
[He smiles and bows, and makes Signs.

_Lod._ He says that _Psyche_ has been sick of late, but somewhat
recovered, and has sent you for a Token a pair of Jet Bracelets, and a
Cambrick Handkerchief of her own spinning, with a Sentence wrought in't,
_Heart in hand, at thy command._
[Looking every word upon Sir _Credulous_ as he makes signs.

Sir _Cred._ Zoz, _Lodwick_, what do you mean? I'm the Son of an
_Egyptian_ if I understand thee.
[Pulls him, he signs to him to hold his peace.

_Lod._ Come, Sir, the Tokens, produce, produce--
[He falls back making damnable signs.
How! Faith, I'm sorry for that with all my heart,--he says, being
somewhat put to't on his Journey, he was forced to pawn the Bracelets
for half a Crown, and the Handkerchief he gave his Landlady on the Road
for a Kindness received,--this 'tis when People will be fooling--

Sir _Cred._ Why, the Devil's in this _Lodwick_, for mistaking my Signs
thus: hang me if ever I thought of Bracelets or a Handkerchief, or ever
received a Civility from any Woman Breathing,--is he bewitcht trow?
[Aside.

_Lean._ _Lodwick_, you are mistaken in the Knight's meaning all this
while. Look on him, Sir,--do not you guess from that Look, and wrying of
his Mouth, that you mistook the Bracelets for Diamond Rings, which he
humbly begs, Madam, you would grace with your fair Hand?

_Lod._ Ah, now I perceive it plain.

Sir _Cred._ A Pox of his Compliment. Why, this is worse than
t'other.--What shall I do in this case?--should I speak and undeceive
them, they would swear 'twere to save my Jems: and to part with
'em--Zoz, how simply should I look!--but hang't, when I have married
her, they are my own again.
[Gives the Rings, and falls back into Grimaces. _Leander_ whispers
to _Lodwick_.

_Lod._ Enough--Then, Sister, she has sent you a Purse of her own
knitting full of Broad Gold.

Sir. _Cred._ Broad Gold! why, what a Pox does the Man conjure?

_Lod._ Which, Sister, faith, you must accept of, you see by that Grimace
how much 'twill grieve him else.

Sir _Cred._ A pretty civil way this to rob a Man.--Why, _Lodwick_,--why,
what a Pox, will they have no mercy?--Zoz, I'll see how far they'll
drive the Jest.
[Gives the Gold and bows, and scrapes and screws.

_Lod._ Say you so, Sir? well I'll see what may be done.--Si