I must not be fob'd off thus about my daughter: I remember not your excuse; but Iohn can tell well enough, I warrant you.

I have told you the plain truth: you'll not be angry, I hope.

I shall have cause to be angry, I fear: Did not I leave her to his charge, Iohn? Brother, I tell you—

I must not answer, brother—

I know you put me out, that I might forget what I said to you before: remember, Iohn: I'll be as cunning as you're crafty: remember, John. How now? what's the matter?

Ho, my old Master's come; he's lighted now at the door with his man John: he's asking for you; he longs to see you: my Master, my old Master.

This fellow's mad.

If you wo'n't believe me, go in and see, Sir: he's not so much alter'd, but you'll quickly know him. I knew him as soon as I saw him. Pray, Sir, go in.

Why this is strange.

If this be true, what course shall we take, Dogrel? I begin to shake like a plum-tree-leaf.

We'll shift some way or other, I war∣rant you.

How, Dogrel? prithee how?

Let the worst come, we can be but whipt, or burnt in the hand, a• the most.

Ho, our best way will be to hang our selves—'Slife, here's John.