P: Like an excellent bear-dog.

CLER: You take no notice of the business, I hope?

DAW: Not a word, sir; you see we are jovial.

OTT: Sir Amorous, you must not equivocate.
It must be pull'd down, for all my cousin.

CLER: 'Sfoot, if you take not your drink, they will think you are
discontented with something: you'll betray all, if you take the
least notice.

LA-F: Not I; I'll both drink and talk then.

OTT: You must pull the horse on his knees, sir Amorous: fear no
cousins. Jacta est alea.

TRUE: O, now he's in his vein, and bold. The least hint given him
of his wife now, will make him rail desperately.

CLER: Speak to him of her.

TRUE: Do you, and I will fetch her to the hearing of it.

[EXIT.]

DAUP: Captain He-Otter, your She-Otter is coming, your wife.

OTT: Wife! buz! titivilitium! There's no such thing in nature.
I confess, gentlemen, I have a cook, a laundress, a house-drudge,
that serves my necessary turns, and goes under that title: but
he's an ass that will be so uxorious to tie his affections to one
circle. Come, the name dulls appetite. Here, replenish again:
another bout.
[FILLS THE CUPS AGAIN.]
Wives are nasty sluttish animalls.

DAUP: O, captain.

OTT: As ever the earth bare, tribus verbis. Where's master
Truewit?

DAW: He's slipt aside, sir.

CLER: But you must drink, and be jovial.

DAW: Yes, give it me.

LA-F: And me too.

DAW: Let's be jovial.

LA-F: As jovial as you will.

OTT: Agreed. Now you shall have the bear, cousin, and sir John
Daw the horse, and I will have the bull still. Sound, Tritons of
the Thames.
[DRUM AND TRUMPETS SOUND AGAIN.]
Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero--

MOR [ABOVE]: Villains, murderers, sons of the earth, and traitors,
what do you there?

CLER: O, now the trumpets have waked him, we shall have his
company.

OTT: A wife is a scurvy clogdogdo, an unlucky thing, a very
foresaid bear-whelp, without any good fashion or breeding: mala
bestia.

[RE-ENTER TRUEWIT BEHIND, WITH MISTRESS OTTER.]

DAUP: Why did you marry one then, captain?

OTT: A pox!--I married with six thousand pound, I. I was in love
with that. I have not kissed my Fury these forty weeks.

CLER: The more to blame you, captain.

TRUE: Nay, mistress Otter, hear him a little first.

OTT: She has a breath worse than my