_Tho_. A mile ons way to _London_ by this tyme with Sir _Richard_. I long to see my Master. [_Exit_.
_Cou_. If you please, Madam, you may call me Brother: We have been at 'I _John_ take the _Elizabeth_'. A possett and foure naked thighes a bed To night will bid faire earnest for a boy, too.
_Sis_. Tis even so; Madam, the preist has done it.
_La_. May then all joyes attend you; if this had Been knowne, it might have staid Sir _Richard_ and Your Uncle one day more.
_Enter Underwit, Dorothy, Captaine, Thomas_.
_Tho_. In hell[277]; my Master is married.
_La_. My husband left some letters and a token Was sent you Mistris _Dorothy_. You did ill To obscure your selfe so much; you shall not want Hereafter all respects that may become you.
_De_. Oh, Madam, newes, ill newes, an accident Will blast all your mirth: Sir _Francis_--
_De_. You guest very neere it, but his shoulder Has sav'd that joynt. A fall from's horse, they say, Hath much endanger'd him.
_La_. He has kept his word; now if he but counterfeit handsomely.
_Un_. Mounsier _Device_, I must entreat a Courtesie; you have wit, and I would have a Masque to entertaine my new father-in-law Sir _Walter Littleland_. Mistres _Dorothy_, now my wife, is his onely Daughter and heire.
_Do_. Who has guld you thus? I am no knights _Daughter_; You may share your poeticall invention, sir.
_Enter Sir Francis, Lady, Courtwell, Sister, Captaine_.
_Fra_. If you have charity a bone setter.
_La_. He does counterfeit rarely.--Wheres Sir _Richard_?
_Fra_. He rid before, but I sent my footman to tell him this misfortune. Oh, Madam!
_La_.--This is better then the toothack; he carries it excellently.
_Fra_. Aske me no torturing questions; I desire, Madam, a little conference with you. Ile thanke the rest if they withdraw: oh!
_Cap_. You have a mind to examine the business privatly?
_Do_. No, good Captaine, you may be present.
_Cou_. Come, _Thomas_, thou shat be witnes, too.
_La_. They are gone; they feigne most artificially, Let me embrace you.
_Fra_. Tis no dissembling,--Madam; I have had A fall indeed, a dreadfull fall; I feele it. I thinke my horse saw the Divell in some hedge: Ere I had rid three furlongs, gave a start, Pitcht me of ons back like a barr and broke A flint with my shoulder, I thinke, which strooke fire too; There was something like it in my eyes, Ime punish'd.