reckoning till it came to
a some and you would pay him in totall. So, sir, with the spit in your
hand away you runn, and we after yee, where you met with a roaring
Captain.

_Lov_. Ha, now, now comes the misfortune.

_Grimes_. Then you stopt and stood a while waving to and froe, as in
suspense; at length you fell, with a forward thrust, quite through his
heart.

_Lov_. Ha, through his heart? the Captaines dead then?

_Grimes_. No sir, twas through a silver heart he weares in memory of
his Mrs.

_Lov_. Ime glad of that: thou strukst me through the heart with thy
newes.

_Grimes_. You being downe, on fell the Captain like a tyrannicall
_Dutch_ man of war that shewes no mercy to the yeelding enemy, and ere
we could bring succor gave you these wounds, which being dark we brought
you home as privately as possible, sett you to sleepe and here stayd
till your waking.

_Lov_. Yare honest fellowes; goe to and go to, I say and I sait agen,
yare honest fellowes and shall not be unrewarded: looke you, theres for
you--and be but sylent in't.

_Grimes_. As is my instrument, Sir. Coods me! what, have they torne away
the back of your satteen Doublet? the Canvas is seene.

_Lov_. Umh, no, but they have stolne my velvet Jerkin.

_Grimes_. I, and dam'd your Dublet.

_Lov_. Tis well; goe; thanks; goe, Ile see you shortly; you and your
Companie shall play at my ladyes wedding. I say no more, goe to; I love
you and I thanke you,

_Grimes_. I thanke you, good Mr. Steward. [_Discovers_

_Lov_. Whoes this? _Grimes_?

_Grimes_. Even he that has thus begrimd yee, my fine drunken Steward. I
can cure you, toe; come, let me be your Surgion.

_Lov_. Thou shalt be my hangman first, Rascall.

_Grimes_. You wonnot murder? helpe Captain, Mr. _Crackby, Tim_!

_Enter Omnes_.

_Omnes_. How now! how now! what's the matter?

_Lov_. Whoop! hell broke loose! tis good to shun the Divell.
[_Exit_.

_Grimes_. Not if you meet him in the likenes of a bottle of Sack, good
Steward.[92]

_Tim_. Why this is excellent.

_Suc_. Grimes, let me hugg thee, thou sonn of witt.

_Grimes_. Nay, letts not leave him thus.

_Crac_. Leade on, weele follow.

[_Exeunt Omnes_.

_Finis Actus Secundi_.

_Actus Tertius_.

(SCENE 1.)

_Enter Sir Geffry and Lady_.

_Sir Geff_. But I beseech you, Madam; what greater accession[93] can you
wish th