above._

_Lam._ Now they are above.

_Ana._ I would they were i'th' Center.

_Lam._ Thou art so foolish desperate.

_Ana._ Since we must lose.

_Lam._ Call 'em brave fellows, Gentlemen.

_Ana._ Call 'em rogues,
Rogues as they are, rude rogues, uncivil villains.

_Lam._ Look an thou woo't beware, dost thou feel the danger?

_Ana._ Till the danger feel me, thus will I talk still,
And worse when that comes too; they cannot eat me.
This is a punishment, upon our own prides
Most justly laid; we must abuse brave Gentlemen,
Make 'em tame fools, and hobby-horses, laugh and jear at
Such men too, and so handsom and so Noble,
That howsoe're we seem'd to carry it--
Wou'd 'twere to do again.

_Lam._ I do confess cousin,
I was too harsh, too foolish.

_Ana._ Do you feel it?
Do you find it now? take heed o'th' punishment,
We might have had two gallant Gentlemen,
Proper, young, O how it tortures me!
Two Devils now, two rascals, two and twenty--

_Lam._ O think not so.

_Ana._ Nay an we 'scape so modestly--

_Lam._ May we be worthy any eyes, or knowledge,
When we are used thus?

_Ana._ Why not? why do you cry?
Are we not women still? what were we made for?

_Lam._ But thus, thus basely--

_Ana._ 'Tis against our [w]ills,
And if there come a thousand so,--

_Lam._ Out on thee.

_Ana._ You are a fool, what we cannot resist,
Why should we grieve and blush for? there be women,
And they that bear the name of excellent women
Would give their whole estates to meet this fortune.

_Lam._ Hark, a new noise. [_New sound within._

_Ana._ Let 'em goe on, I fear not,
If wrangling, fighting and scratching cannot preserve me,
Why so be it Cousin; if I be ordain'd
To breed a race of rogues.--

_Enter four over the stage with_ Beaupre, _and_ Verdone,
_bound and halters about their necks_.

_Lam._ They come.

_Ana._ Be firm,
They are welcom.

_Lam._ What mask of death is this? O my dear Brother.

_Ana._ My Couz too; why now y'are glorious villains.

_Lam._ O shall we lose our honours?

_Ana._ Let 'em goe,
When death prepares the way, they are but Pageants.
Why must these dye?

_Beau._ Lament your own misfortunes,
We perish happily before your ruins.

_Ana._ Has mischief ne'r a tongue?

_1 Gent._ Yes foolish woman,
Our Captains will is death.

_Ana._ You dare not do it.
Tell thy base boisterous Captain what I say,
Thy lawless Captain that he dares not;
Do you laugh you rogue? you pa