_George_. Yes, sir.

_Charg_. That's right. Serve them as quick as they order! A fair
company! I have seen them here before. Take care they come again. A
choice company! That Master Waller, I hear, is a fine spirit--leads the
town. Pay him much duty. A deep purse, and easy strings.

_George_. And there is another, sir;--a capital gentleman, though from
the country. A gentleman most learned in dogs and horses! He doth talk
wondrous edification:--one Master Wildrake. I wish you could hear him,
sir.

_Charg_. Well, well!--attend to them. Let them not cool o'er the
liquor, or their calls will grow slack. Keep feeding the fire while it
blazes, and the blaze will continue. Look to it well!

_George_. I will, sir.

_Charg_. And be careful, above all, that you please Master Waller. He
is a guest worth pleasing. He is a gentleman. Free order, quick pay!

_George_. And such, I'll dare be sworn, is the other. A man of mighty
stores of knowledge--most learned in dogs and horses! Never was I so
edified by the discourse of mortal man.

[They go out severally.]

SCENE II.--A Room.

[MASTER WALLER, MASTER WILDRAKE, MASTER TRUEWORTH, MASTER NEVILLE, and
MASTER HUMPHREYS, sitting round a table.]

_Wal_. Well, Master Wildrake, speak you of the chase!
To hear you one doth feel the bounding steed;
You bring the hounds and game, and all to view--
All scudding to the jovial huntsman's cheer!
And yet I pity the poor crowned deer,
And always fancy 'tis by fortune's spite,
That lordly head of his, he bears so high--
Like Virtue, stately in calamity,
And hunted by the human, worldly hound--
Is made to fly before the pack, that straight
Burst into song at prospect of his death.
You say their cry is harmony; and yet
The chorus scarce is music to my ear,
When I bethink me what it sounds to his;
Nor deem I sweet the note that rings the knell
Of the once merry forester!

_Nev_. The same things
Please us or pain, according to the thought
We take of them. Some smile at their own death,
Which most do shrink from, as beast of prey
It kills to look upon. But you, who take
Such pity of the deer, whence follows it
You hunt more costly game?--the comely maid,
To wit, that waits on buxom Widow Green?

_Hum_. The comely maid! Such term not half the sum
Of her rich beauty gives! Were rule to go
By loveliness, I knew not in the court,
Or city, lady might not fitly serve
That lady serving-maid!

_Tru