, sans question, shall be.
I'll presently think of the means.

[_Walks by, musing._

_Enter_ Sir Giles Overreach.

_Sir G._ Sirrah, take my horse;
I'll walk to get me an appetite. 'Tis but a mile;
And exercise will keep me from being pursy.
Ha! Marall! is he conjuring? Perhaps
The knave has wrought the prodigal to do
Some outrage on himself, and now he feels
Compunction in his conscience for't: no matter,
So it be done. Marall!

_Mar._ Sir!

_Sir G._ How succeed we
In our plot on Wellborn?

_Mar._ Never better, sir.

_Sir G._ Has he hang'd, or drown'd himself?

_Mar._ No sir, he lives,
Lives once more to be made a prey to you:
And greater prey than ever.

_Sir G._ Art thou in thy wits?
If thou art, reveal this miracle, and briefly.

_Mar._ A lady, sir, has fall'n in love with him.

_Sir G._ With him! What lady?

_Mar._ The rich Lady Allworth.

_Sir G._ Thou dolt! how darst thou speak this?

_Mar._ I speak true;
And I do so but once a year: unless
It be to you, sir. We din'd with her ladyship:
I thank his worship.

_Sir G._ His worship!

_Mar._ As I live, sir,
I din'd with him, at the great lady's table,
Simple as I stand here; and saw when she kiss'd him;
And, at his request, welcom'd me too.

_Sir G._ Why, thou rascal,
To tell me these impossibilities:
Dine at her table! and kiss him!
Impudent varlet! Have not I myself,
To whom great countesses' doors have oft flown open,
Ten times attempted, since her husband's death,
In vain to see her, tho' I came--a suitor?
And yet your good solicitorship, and rogue Wellborn,
Were brought into her presence, feasted with her.
But that I know thee a dog that cannot blush,
This most incredible lie would call up one into
Thy cheeks.

_Mar._ Shall I not trust my eyes, sir?
Or taste? I feel her good cheer in my belly.

_Sir G._ You shall feel me, if you give not over, sirrah!
Recover your brains again, and be no more gull'd
With a beggar's plot, assisted by the aids
Of serving men; and chambermaids; for, beyond these,
Thou never saw'st a woman; or, I'll quit you
From my employments.

_Mar._ Will you credit this, yet?
On my confidence of their marriage, I offered Wellborn
(I would give a crown now, I durst say his worship [_Aside._
My nag, and twenty pounds.

_Sir G._ Did you so? [_Strikes him down._
Was this the way to work him to despair,
Or rather to cross me?

_Mar._ Will your worship kill me?

_Sir G._ No, no; but drive the lying spi