Oliv.

Sirrah Ralph, my young mistress is in such a pitiful passionate humour for the long absence of her love—

Ralph.

Why, can you blame her? Why, apples hanging longer on the tree than when they are ripe^{3 note}

Oliv.

Mass thou say'st true, 'tis common indeed^{4 note}


. But sirrah, is neither our young master^{5 note}

Ralph.

Neither of either, as the puritan bawd says^{6 note}. 'Slid I hear Sam. Sam's come; here he is; tarry;—come i'faith: now my nose itches for news.

Oliv.

And so does mine elbow.

Sam. [within.]

Where are you there? Boy, look you walk my horse with discretion. I have rid him simply: I warrant his skin sticks to his back with very heat. If he should catch cold and get the cough of the lungs, I were well served, were I not?

What Ralph and Oliver!

Both.

Honest fellow Sam, welcome i'faith. What tricks hast thou brought from London?

Sam.

You see I am hang'd after the truest fashion; three hats, and two glasses bobbing upon them; two rebato wires^{7 note}

a brush at my back, an almanack in my pocket, and three ballads in my codpiece^{8 note}. Nay, I am the true picture of a common serving-man^{9 note}.

Oliv.

I'll swear thou art; thou may'st set up when thou wilt: there's many a one begins with less I can tell thee, that proves a rich man ere he dies. But what's the news from London, Sam?

Ralph.

Ay, that's well said; what's the news from London, sirrah? My young mistress keeps such a puling for her love.

Sam.

Why the more fool she; ay, the more ninny-hammer she.

Oliv.

Why, Sam, why?

Sam.

Why, he is married to another long ago.

Both.

I'faith? You jest.

Sam.

Why, did you not know that till now? Why, he's married, beats his wife, and has two or three children by her. For you must note, that any woman bears the more when she is beaten^{1 note}.

Ralph.

Ay, that's true, for she bears the blows.

Oliv.

Sirrah Sam, I would not for two years' wages my young mistress knew so much; she'd run upon the left hand of her wit, and ne'er be her own woman again.

Sam.

And I think she was blest in her cradle, that

he never came in her bed^{2 note}. Why, he has consum'd all, pawn'd his lands, and made his university brother stand in wax for him^{3 note}: there's a fine phrase for a scrivener^{4 note}
. Puh! he owes more than his skin is worth.

Oliv.

Is't possible?

Sam.

Nay, I'll tell you moreover, he calls his wife whore, as familiarly as one would call Moll and Doll; and his children bastards, as naturally as can be.—But what have we here? I thought 'twas something pull'd down my breeches; I quite forgot my two poking sticks^{5 note}: these came from London. Now any thing is good here that comes from London.

Oliv.

Ay, far fetch'd, you know, Sam^{6 note}

Sam.

The mind of a thing is all; the mind of a thing is all; and as thou said'st even now, far-fetch'd are the best things for ladies.

Oliv.

Ay, and for waiting-gentlewomen too.

Sam.

But Ralph, what, is our beer sour this thunder?

Ralph.

No, no, it holds countenance yet.

Sam.

Why then follow me; I'll teach you the finest humour to be drunk in: I learn'd it at London last week.

Both.

I'faith? Let's hear it, let's hear it.

Sam.

The bravest humour! 'twould do a man good to be drunk in it: they call it knighting in London, when they drink upon their knees^{7 note}

Both.

'Faith that's excellent.

Sam.

Come follow me; I'll give you all the degrees of it in order^{8 note}.