a street to lie in so narrow at both
ends, that it will receive no coaches, nor carts, nor any of these
common noises: and therefore we that love him, devise to bring him
in such as we may, now and then, for his exercise, to breathe him.
He would grow resty else in his ease: his virtue would rust without
action. I entreated a bearward, one day, to come down with the
dogs of some four parishes that way, and I thank him he did;
and cried his games under master Morose's window: till he was
sent crying away, with his head made a most bleeding spectacle to
the multitude. And, another time, a fencer marchng to his prize, had
his drum most tragically run through, for taking that street in his
way at my request.

TRUE: A good wag! How does he for the bells?

CLER: O, in the Queen's time, he was wont to go out of town every
Saturday at ten o'clock, or on holy day eves. But now, by reason of
the sickness, the perpetuity of ringing has made him devise a
room, with double walls, and treble ceilings; the windows close
shut and caulk'd: and there he lives by candlelight. He turn'd away
a man, last week, for having a pair of new shoes that creak'd.
And this fellow waits on him now in tennis-court socks, or slippers
soled with wool: and they talk each to other in a trunk. See, who
comes here!

[ENTER SIR DAUPHINE EUGENIE.]

DAUP: How now! what ail you sirs? dumb?

TRUE: Struck into stone, almost, I am here, with tales o' thine
uncle. There was never such a prodigy heard of.

DAUP: I would you would once lose this subject, my masters, for my
sake. They are such as you are, that have brought me into that
predicament I am with him.

TRUE: How is that?

DAUP: Marry, that he will disinherit me; no more. He thinks, I and
my company are authors of all the ridiculous Acts and Monuments are
told of him.

TRUE: S'lid, I would be the author of more to vex him; that purpose
deserves it: it gives thee law of plaguing him. I will tell thee
what I would do. I would make a false almanack; get it printed:
and then have him drawn out on a coronation day to the Tower-wharf,
and kill him with the noise of the ordnance. Disinherit thee! he
cannot, man. Art not thou next of blood, and his sister's son?

DAUP: Ay, but he will thrust me out of it, he vows, and marry.

TRUE: How! that's a more portent. Can he endure no noise, an