d if he be not too fool-hardy.

_Enter_ Zabulon.

_Sulp._ How now?
What news with you?

_Zab._ You must presently
Shew all the art you have, and for my Lady.

_Sulp._ She may command.

_Zab._ You must not dream nor trifle.

_Sulp._ Which way?

_Zab._ A spell you must prepare, a powerful one,
Peruse but these directions, you shall find all;
There is the picture too, be quick, and faithful,
And do it with that strength--when 'tis perform'd,
Pitch your reward at what you please, you have it.

_Sul._ I'le do my best, and suddenly: but hark ye,
Will you never lye at home again?

_Zab._ Excuse me,
I have too much business yet.

_Sulp._ I am right glad on't.

_Zab._ Think on your business, so farewel.

_Sulp._ I'le do it.

_Zab._ Within this hour I'le visit you again
And give you greater lights.

_Sulp._ I shall observe ye;
This brings a brave reward, bravely I'le do it,
And all the hidden art I have, express in't. [_Exeunt at both doors._

_Enter_ Rutilio _with a Night-cap._

_Rut._ Now do I look as if I were Crow-trodden,
Fye, how my hams shrink under me! O me,
I am broken-winded too; is this a life?
Is this the recreation I have aim'd at?
I had a body once, a handsome body,
And wholesome too. Now I appear like a rascal,
That had been hung a year or two in Gibbets.
Fye how I faint! women? keep me from women;
Place me before a Cannon, 'tis a pleasure;
Stretch me upon a Rack, a recreation;
But women? women? O the Devil! women?
_Curtius_ Gulf was never half so dangerous.
Is there no way to find the Trap-door again,
And fall into the Cellar, and be taken?
No lucky fortune to direct me that way?
No Gallies to be got, nor yet no Gallows?
For I fear nothing now, no earthly thing
But these unsatisfied Men-leeches, women.
How devilishly my bones ake! O the old Lady!
I have a kind of waiting-woman lyes cross my back too,
O how she stings! no treason to deliver me?
Now what are you? do you mock me?

_Enter_ 3. _with Night-caps very faintly._

_1_ No Sir, no;
We were your Predecessors in this place.

_2_ And come to see you bear up.

_Rut._ Good Gentlemen;
You seem to have a snuffing in your head Sir,
A parlous snuffing, but this same dampish air--

_2_ A dampish air indeed.

_Rut._ Blow your face tenderly,
Your nose will ne're endure it: mercy o' me,
What are men chang'd to here? is my nose fast yet?
Me thinks it shakes i'th' hilts: pray tell me gentlemen,
How long is't since you flo