re goes a black one with you Ladie.

_Lady._ Farewell young man. [_Exit_ Ladie.

_Wel._ You have made me one, Farewell: and may the curse of a great house
fall upon thee, I mean the Butler. The devil and all his works are in
these women, would all of my sex were of my mind, I would make 'em a new
Lent, and a long one, that flesh might be in more reverence with them.

_Enter Abigal to him._

_Abig._ I am sorry M. _Welford_.

_Wel._ So am I, that you are here.

_Abig._ How does my Ladie use you?

_Wel._ As I would use you, scurvilie.

_Abig._ I should have been more kind Sir.

_Wel._ I should have been undone then. Pray leave me, and look to your
sweet-meats; hark, your Ladie calls.

_Abig._ Sir, I shall borrow so much time without offence.

_Wel._ Y'are nothing but offence, for Gods love leave me.

_Abig._ 'Tis strange my Ladie should be such a tyrant?

_Wel._ To send you to me, 'Pray goe stitch, good doe, y'are more trouble
to me than a Term.

_Abig._ I do not know how my good will, if I said love I lied not, should
any way deserve this?

_Wel._ A thousand waies, a thousand waies; sweet creature let me depart in
peace.

_Abig._ What Creature Sir? I hope I am a woman.

_Wel._ A hundred I think by your noise.

_Abig._ Since you are angrie Sir, I am bold to tell you that I am a woman,
and a rib.

_Wel._ Of a roasted horse.

_Abig._ Conster me that?

_Wel._ A Dog can doe it better; Farwell Countess, and commend me to your
Ladie, tell her she's proud, and scurvie, and so I commit you both to your
tempter.

_Abig._ Sweet Mr. _Welford_.

_Wel._ Avoid old Satanus: Go daub your ruines, your face looks fouler than
a storm: the Foot-man stayes for you in the Lobby Lady.

_Abig._ If you were a Gentleman, I should know it by your gentle
conditions: are these fit words to give a Gentlewoman?

_Wel._ As fit as they were made for ye: Sirrah, my horses. Farwell old
Adage, keep your nose warm, the Rheum will make it horn else--
[_Exit_ Welford.

_Abig._ The blessings of a Prodigal young heir be thy companions
_Welford_, marry come up my Gentleman, are your gums grown so tender they
cannot bite? A skittish Filly will be your fortune _Welford_, and fair
enough for such a packsaddle. And I doubt not (if my aim hold) to see her
made to amble to your hand. [_Exit Abigal._

_Enter_ Young Loveless, _and_ Comrades, Morecraft, Widow, Savil, _and the
rest._

_Captain._ Save thy brave should