THO. No, their lips were seal'd with kisses, and the voice
Drown'd in a flood of joy at their arrival,
Had lost her motion, state, and faculty.
Cob, which of them was't that first kiss'd my wife?
(My sister, I should say,) my wife, alas,
I fear not her: ha? who was it, say'st thou?

COB. By my troth, sir, will you have the truth of it?

THO. Oh ay, good Cob: I pray thee.

COB. God's my judge, I saw nobody to be kiss'd, unless
they would have kiss'd the post in the middle of the
warehouse; for there I left them all, at their tobacco,
with a pox.

THO. How? were they not gone in then ere thou cam'st?

COB. Oh no, sir.

THO. Spite of the devil, what do I stay here then?
Cob, follow me.

[EXIT THO.]

COB. Nay, soft and fair, I have eggs on the spit; I cannot
go yet sir: now am I for some divers reasons hammering,
hammering revenge: oh, for three or four gallons of vinegar,
to sharpen my wits: Revenge, vinegar revenge, russet revenge;
nay, an he had not lien in my house, 'twould never have
grieved me; but being my guest, one that I'll be sworn my
wife has lent him her smock off her back, while his own shirt
has been at washing: pawned her neckerchers for clean bands
for him: sold almost all my platters to buy him tobacco;
and yet to see an ingratitude wretch strike his host;
well, I hope to raise up an host of furies for't: here
comes M. Doctor.

[ENTER DOCTOR CLEMENT, LORENZO SENIOR, PETO.]

CLEM. What's Signior Thorello gone?

PET. Ay, sir.

CLEM. Heart of me, what made him leave us so abruptly?
How now, sirrah; what make you here? what would you
have, ha?

COB. An't please your worship, I am a poor neighbour of
your worship's.

CLEM. A neighbour of mine, knave?

COB. Ay, sir, at the sign of the Water-tankard, hard by
the Green Lattice: I have paid scot and lot there any
time this eighteen years.

CLEM. What, at the Green Lattice?

COB. No sir: to the parish: marry, I have seldom scaped
scot-free at the Lattice.

CLEM. So: but what business hath my neighbour?

COB. An't like your worship, I am come to crave the
peace of your worship.

CLEM. Of me, knave? peace of me, knave? did I e'er
hurt thee? did I ever threaten thee? or wrong thee? ha?

COB. No, God's my comfort, I mean your worship's warrant,
for one that hath wro