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Courtwell, possest with the spiritt of defiance to Cupid, is ready to beat him for being in love; my Projector dead drunk in a Chaire, and the Captaine peepeing into his mouth like a tooth drawer and powring downe sack which he feeles not, but his chapps shut againe like a spring lock till he returne with a key to open his teeth, to poure in the next health. Enter Courtwell. Cou.

By These twin lips I love thee extreamely. Sis. Sweare by your owne. Cou. They shall bee mine. Mounsier, For your penance you shall along and witnes. Sis. What, I pray? Cou. The Priest shall tell you; come, we have both dissembled, We do love one another. Sis. Tis not possible. Cou. Unless you will denie me i'the church.

But I am not Satisfied: do you affect this gentlewoman? De. Hum. Cou. You will resolve, sir? De. As may become a stranger; ile not loose Thy friendship for all woman kind. Cou. He dares not owne you. Sis. I easilie forgive him; I should hate My selfe, if I depended on his pitty. Cou. Th'art a noble wench. Shall we leave of These jigs and speake our harts in earnest?

I could Dissolve with curseing of my Lathargie. How shall I looke upon her face whose love And bold adventure I have thus rewarded? Where shall I hide my selfe and shame for ever! The Fifth Act. Enter Sister. Sis. I cannot forgett my carelesse gentleman: his neglect and reproaches have wrought strangely upon me. Hee's here. Enter Courtwell. Cou.

Where? Sis. Behind that tree? Cou. You have no plott to accuse me for a rape? Twas at the worst but felony, for cherries That look'd as they had been a fortnight gather'd. Sis. I know youle bring me home in Curtesie. Cou. Not I, I wo' not trust my selfe; and you Will hardly meet a worse to interrupt you. Fare you well, Ladie. Do you see that Bull? Sis. Yes, Sir. Cou. That is a happie beast Sis.

I have seene a Catamountaine once; but all was nothing to the wench that turnd round and thred needles. Cou. Troth, sir, I thinke you have turnd round, too, and are not setled yet. En.

Why, this was spoke like one of us; canst doo't Agen? thy voice is more authentick, soundes As I have heard a Cavalliers in taverne, Or like the merry master of the Dragon, Small Neptune, that controlls the rich Canaries, When he Comaunds the Tritons of his cellar 'Skud, and bring wine, you varlotts, with a flavour For my Nobilitie. Wee were conspiring To goe to'th taverne. Cou.

They will become a countrey teame rarely. De. Mor bleu! I shall never trust fame agen for your sake. Cou. Thou never cosendst me. De. I was never so illiterate in man. Cou.

Is there not a weesill crept into your Chamber, lady? Sis. A weesill, sir? Cou. A Mounsier sucklegge. Sis. Do you take my Chamber for a henns neast? Cou. There is a thing that calls himselfe Device, One that will break the hart of a post horse To continue a hand gallop with him; your Alamode, Your fighting faery feather'd footed servant, When saw you him? Sis.

In troth I thinke I could not. Sis. You do but thinke. Cou. Nay, ile bind it with an oath before the parish, And when I have given my reasons, too, the Clarke Shall praise me fort and say Amen. Sis. What reasons? Cou.