suche a daringe impudence.

_Bus_. Howe's that?

_Gan_. Thus and observe me. As you love the cubboarde
Wherein your calves brayns are lockt up for breakfast,
Whenere agayne thou shalt but dare to play
The dogge and open thus when I am present
Without my spetyall lycence and comand,
Ile vexe thee so with punishment and shame
That life shalbe thy torment. Hence, thou slave,
Of no more shyrtts, than soules, and they consistinge
Of equall foulness! hence, I say! Ignorance
Shall not excuse thee thus agayne offendinge.

_Bus_. Preposterous! I walke for want of spyrrytt.
[_Exit La Busse_.

_Gan_. Pyttie of follye! wherefore shoulde thys boy,
Thys thynge of too nyce contyence, nay my sonne,
Troble hym selfe with any acte of myne
As if they helde proportion with hys state,
Wytt or condytion? Such thyngs are swayd by chaunce:
And naughts more arrogant than Ignorance.--
But here comes he that hathe brayne to plott
And spyrrytt to acte.

_Enter Didier_.

Howe is it _Didier_?

_Did_. As you comanded, Sir.

_Gan_. Hast doone it then?

_Did_. And without all suspytion?

_Gan_. Halfe my soule,
Let me imbrace thee. All my cares and feares
Thou hast dyspeyrct for ever; from hys deathe
My future honors take a glorious byrthe.

_Enter La Fue_.

_Fue_. Hees never from hym; nay I must begone;
Past servyce is forgott. Doe you heare, my lorde?
Beggars must be no chusers. I am one,
The proverb proves it, an oulde serving man:
At your choyse therefore be it, whether I
Or that knave shall stay with you, for both must not;
Your house (though lardge) cannot contayne us bothe.

_Gan_. Why, whatts the matter, _Fue_?

_Fue_. Matter of wronge.
Full twoe and twentye severall liverye coatts,
Made & composed all for severall yeares,
Have I runne throughe in your most faythfull service.
Oth scullerye I was three yeares before:
So, blacke and blewe[86], I make account I've served
Your Lordshypp five and twentye.

_Gan_. What meanes thys?

_Fue_. My servyce notwithstandinge, thys proude Jacke
Abuses me in words I understand not;
And therefore in playne tearmes if you keepe hym
I am no longer for you.

_Gan_. Patyence, man:
If thys be all Ile see it remedyed.
He shalbe sorrye for the wronge thats past
And promyse thee to second it with other.

_Fue_. Shall he? why, let him then, and I wilbe content to dye in peace.

_Did_. I bothe repent and promyse no amends.

_Fue_. Well, th