his livery for
that varlet's gown, to serve it in; and thus have brought myself by
my activity to your worship's consideration.

Clem. And I will consider thee in another cup of sack. Here's to
thee, which having drunk off this my sentence: Pledge me. Thou hast
done, or assisted to nothing, in my judgment, but deserves to be
pardon'd for the wit of the offence. If thy master, or any man
here, be angry with thee, I shall suspect his ingine, while I know
him, for't. How now, what noise is that?

Enter Servant.

Serv. Sir, it is Roger is come home.

Clem. Bring him in, bring him in.
Enter FORMAL in a suit of armour.

What! drunk? in arms against me? your reason, your reason for this?

Form. I beseech your worship to pardon me; I happened into ill
company by chance, that cast me into a sleep, and stript me of all
my clothes.

Clem. Well, tell him I am Justice Clement, and do pardon him: but
what is this to your armour? what may that signify?

Form. An't please you, sir, it hung up in the room where I was
stript; and I borrow'd it of one of the drawers to come home in,
because I was loth to do penance through the street in my shirt.

Clem. Well, stand by a while.
Enter E. KNOWELL, WELLBRED, and BRIDGET.

Who be these? O, the young company; welcome, welcome! Give you joy.
Nay, mistress Bridget, blush not; you are not so fresh a bride, but
the news of it is come hither afore you. Master bridegroom, I have
made your peace, give me your hand: so will I for all the rest ere
you forsake my roof.

E. Know. We are the more bound to your humanity, sir.

Clem. Only these two have so little of man in them, they are no
part of my care.

Wel. Yes, sir, let me pray you for this gentleman, he belongs to my
sister the bride.

Clem. In what place, sir?

Wel. Of her delight, sir, below the stairs, and in public: her
poet, sir.

Clem. A poet! I will challenge him myself presently at extempore.

Mount up thy Phlegon, Muse, and testify,
How Saturn, sitting in an ebon cloud,
Disrobed his podex, white as ivory,
And through the welkin thunder'd all aloud.

Wel. He is not for extempore, sir: he is all for the pocket muse;
please you command a sight of it.

Clem. Yes, yes, search him for a taste of his vein. [They search
Mathew's pockets.