Face! appear.
[ENTER FACE IN HIS UNIFORM.]
How now! good prize?

FACE. Good pox! yond' costive cheater
Never came on.

SUB. How then?

FACE. I have walk'd the round
Till now, and no such thing.

SUB. And have you quit him?

FACE. Quit him! an hell would quit him too, he were happy.
'Slight! would you have me stalk like a mill-jade,
All day, for one that will not yield us grains?
I know him of old.

SUB. O, but to have gull'd him,
Had been a mastery.

FACE. Let him go, black boy!
And turn thee, that some fresh news may possess thee.
A noble count, a don of Spain, my dear
Delicious compeer, and my party-bawd,
Who is come hither private for his conscience,
And brought munition with him, six great slops,
Bigger than three Dutch hoys, beside round trunks,
Furnished with pistolets, and pieces of eight,
Will straight be here, my rogue, to have thy bath,
(That is the colour,) and to make his battery
Upon our Dol, our castle, our cinque-port,
Our Dover pier, our what thou wilt. Where is she?
She must prepare perfumes, delicate linen,
The bath in chief, a banquet, and her wit,
For she must milk his epididimis.
Where is the doxy?

SUB. I'll send her to thee:
And but despatch my brace of little John Leydens,
And come again my self.

FACE. Are they within then?

SUB. Numbering the sum.

FACE. How much?

SUB. A hundred marks, boy.

[EXIT.]

FACE. Why, this is a lucky day. Ten pounds of Mammon!
Three of my clerk! A portague of my grocer!
This of the brethren! beside reversions,
And states to come in the widow, and my count!
My share to-day will not be bought for forty--

[ENTER DOL.]

DOL. What?

FACE. Pounds, dainty Dorothy! art thou so near?

DOL. Yes; say, lord general, how fares our camp?

FACE. As with the few that had entrench'd themselves
Safe, by their discipline, against a world, Dol,
And laugh'd within those trenches, and grew fat
With thinking on the booties, Dol, brought in
Daily by their small parties. This dear hour,
A doughty don is taken with my Dol;
And thou mayst make his ransom what thou wilt,
My Dousabel; he shall be brought here fetter'd
With thy fair looks, before he sees thee; and thrown
In a down-bed, as dark as any dungeon;
Where thou shalt keep him waking with thy drum;
Thy drum, my Dol, thy drum; till he be tame
As the poor black-birds were in the g