maid gave you; may we not join lips before we are married?

_Isa_. No; fie, Sir Timorous.

[_They struggle a little, and in that time FAILER picks his pocket
of the key_.

_Fail_. I have it--here it is--now, shift for yourself, as I'll
do; I'll wait you in the alley.

[_Exit_.

_Isa_. Sir Timorous, pray go into my chamber, and make no noise
till I return; I'll but fetch the little man of God, and follow you in
a twinkling.

_Burr_. There's no light, I hope?

_Isa_. Not a spark.

_Burr_. For to light me to the mark--

[_Exit_.

_Isa_. What a scowering have I 'scaped to-night! Fortune, 'tis
thou hast been ingenious for me! Allons, Isabella! Courage! now to
deliver my knight from the enchanted castle.

[_Exit_.

_Enter LOVEBY, led by SETSTONE, antickly habited; with a torch in
one hand, and a wand in the other_.

_Lov_. What art thou, that hast led me this long hour through
lanes and alleys, and blind passages?

_Set_. I am thy genius; and conduct thee to wealth, fame, and
honour; what thou comest to do, do boldly; fear not; with this rod I
charm thee; and neither elf nor goblin now can harm thee.

_Lov_. Well, march on; if thou art my genius, thou art bound to
be answerable for me; I'll have thee hanged, if I miscarry.

_Set_. Fear not, my son.

_Lov_. Fear not, quotha! then, pr'ythee, put on a more familiar
shape:--one of us two stinks extremely: Pr'ythee, do not come so near
me; I do not love to have my face bleached like a tiffany with thy
brimstone.

_Set_. Fear not, but follow me.

_Lov_. 'Faith, I have no great mind to't; I am somewhat godly at
present; but stay a month longer, and I'll be proud, and fitter for
thee. In the mean time, pr'ythee, stay thy stomach with some Dutchman;
an Hollander, with butter, will fry rarely in hell.

_Set_. Mortal, 'tis now too late for a retreat; go on, and live;
step back, and thou art mine.

_Lorn_. So I am, however, first or last; but for once I'll trust
thee. [_Exeunt_.

SCENE II.

_The scene opens, and discovers CONSTANCE, and a Parson by her; she
habited like Fortune.

Enter again_.

_Set_. Take here the mighty queen of good and ill, Fortune; first
marry, then enjoy thy fill Of lawful pleasures; but depart ere morn;
Slip from her bed, or else thou shalt be torn Piecemeal by fiends;
thy blood caroused in bowls, And thy four quarters blown to the top of
Paul's.

_Lov_. By your favour, I'll never venture. Is marrying the
business? I'll