,
I must have mony.

_Sir Geff_. 'Tis reason good you should; it is fitting to cherish men
of armes. There is a treasurer in the county, Captaine, pays souldiers
pensions: if any be due to you Ile write my letter, you shall receive
it.

_Bun_. Faith, there he mett with you.

_Crac_. I see a storme a coming. Uncle, I wilbe answerable upon account:
my souldier must have mettall.

_Sir Geff_. Iron and Steele is most convenient for Souldiers; but, since
you say it, Nephew, he shall have it: how much must it be?

_Suc_. A score of Angells shall satisfie for the confrontment you have
offred me in being dilatory.

_Sir Geff_. _Bunch_, deliver him ten pounds;--but, dee heare.

_Bunch_, let be in light gold; 'twill serve his turn as well as heavier:
it may be he is one of those projectors transports it beyond sea.

_Enter Magdalen_.

_Mag_. Sir, I come to give you notice my ladyes walkd into the garden.

_Sir Geff_. Life! is she upp so early?

_Mag_. An hower since, beleeve it.

_Crac_. Is my Mistress stirring?

_Mag_. In truth, I know not.

_Sir Geff_. Nephew, demeane your selfe with[64] all respect
Toward the gentlewoman you affect.
You must learne with here since the citty
Could spare you none.--Ile to the lady.

[_Exeunt Bunch, Sir Geff. and Mag_.

_Crac_. Captaine, shalls into th'Celler, Captaine?

_Suc_. I like the Motion.

_Crac_. Come away, then: there is indifferent liquor in this house,
but that ith towne is most abominable. Weele drinke our owne healths,
Captaine.

_Suc_. Well considered; 'tis for our reputation.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

(SCENE 3.)

_Enter Bonvill, Clarinna, Belizea and Grimes_.

_Bon_. Come, you are wantons both: If I were absent,
You would with as much willingness traduce
My manners to them. What Idiots are wee men
To tender our services to women
Who deride us for our paines!

_Cla_. Why can you great wise men who esteeme us women
But equall with our parrets or at best
But a degree above them, prating creatures
Devoid of reason, thinke that when we see
A man whose teeth will scarce permitt his tongue
To say,--(he is soe like December come
A woing to the Spring, with all the ensignes
Of youth and bravery as if he meant
To dare his land-lord Death to single rapier)--
We have not so much spleene as will engender
A modest laughter at him?

_Bel_. Nay, theres his Nephew, _Crackby_, your sweet servant