_Strem._ Peace, And come in quicklie, 'tis ten to one else He'l find a staff to beat a dog; no more words, I'le get ye all imployment; soft, soft in all. [_Exeunt._
_Clo._ But now this evening, And have been ever since looking out _Siphax_, I'th' wars he would have lookt me: sure h'as gotten Some other Mistris?
_Chi._ A thousand, wench, a thousand, They are as common here as Caterpillers Among the corn, they eat up all the Souldiers.
_Clo._ Are they so hungry? yet by their leave _[C]hilax_, I'le have a snatch too.
_Clo._ Why should I not? he had my Maiden-head And all my youth.
_Chi._ Thou art come the happiest, In the most blessed time, sweet wench the fittest, If thou darst make thy fortune: by this light, _Cloe_, And so I'le kiss thee: and if thou wilt but let me, For 'tis well worth a kindness.
_Chi._ Still still, and ever shall be: if, I say, Thou wo't strike the stroke: I cannot do much harm wench.
_Chi._ _Siphax_ shall be thy Husband, Thy very Husband woman, thy fool, thy Cuckold, Or what thou wilt make him: I am over joy'd, Ravisht, clean ravisht with this fortune; kiss me, Or I shall lose my self.
_Chi._ Said I? and will say, _Cloe_: nay and do it And do it home too; Peg thee as close to him As birds are with a pin to one another; I have it, I can do it: thou wantst clothes too, And hee'l be hang'd unless he marry thee E're he maintain thee: now he has Ladies, Courtiers More than his back can bend at, multitudes; We are taken up for threshers, will ye bite?
_Chi._ I cannot stay, take your instructions And something toward houshold, come, what ever I shall advise ye, follow it exactlie, And keep your times I point ye; for I'le tell ye A strange way you must wade through.
_Chi._ Come then, and let's dispatch this modicum, For I have but an hour to stay, a short one, Besides more water for another mill, An old weak over-shot I must provide for, There's an old Nunnerie at hand.
_Chi._ If the stones 'tis built on Were but as brittle as the flesh lives in it, Your curse came handsomlie: fear not, there's ladies, And other good sad people: your pinkt Citizens Think it no shame to shake a sheet there: Come wench. [_Exeunt._
_Siph._ Can ye blame me; When such a weight lies on me?