t two of us in all the
world, and if we should not be comforts one to another, God help us!

FUNG. Faith, I cannot tell, sister; but if a man had any true melancholy
in him, it would make him melancholy to see his yeomanly father cut his
neighbours' throats, to make his son a gentleman; and yet, when he has cut
them, he will see his son's throat cut too, ere he make him a true
gentleman indeed, before death cut his own throat. I must be the first
head of our house, and yet he will not give me the head till I be made so.
Is any man termed a gentleman, that is not always in the fashion? I would
know but that.

FAL. If you be melancholy for that, brother, I think I have as much cause
to be melancholy as any one: for I'll be sworn, I live as little in the
fashion as any woman in London. By the faith of a gentlewoman, beast that
I am to say it! I have not one friend in the world besides my husband.
When saw you master Fastidious Brisk, brother?

FUNG. But a while since, sister, I think: I know not well in truth. By
this hand I could fight with all my heart, methinks.

FAL. Nay, good brother, be not resolute.

FUNG. I sent him a letter, and he writes me no answer neither.

FAL. Oh, sweet Fastidious Brisk! O fine courtier! thou are he makest me
sigh, and say, how blessed is that woman that hath a courtier to her
husband, and how miserable a dame she is, that hath neither husband, nor
friend in the court! O sweet Fastidious! O fine courtier! How comely he
bows him in his court'sy! how full he hits a woman between the lips when
he kisses! how upright he sits at the table! how daintily he carves! how
sweetly he talks, and tells news of this lord and of that lady! how
cleanly he wipes his spoon at every spoonful of any whitemeat he eats! and
what a neat case of pick-tooths he carries about him still! O sweet
Fastidious! O fine courtier!

ENTER DELIRO AT A DISTANCE, WITH MUSICIANS.
DELI. See, yonder she is, gentlemen. Now, as ever you'll bear the name of
musicians, touch your instruments sweetly; she has a delicate ear, I tell
you: play not a false note, I beseech you.

MUSI. Fear not, signior Deliro.

DELI. O, begin, begin, some sprightly thing: lord, how my imagination
labours with the success of it! [THEY STRIKE UP A LIVELY TUNE.] Well
said, good i'faith! Heaven grant it please he