Feth. Hah—I hear no noise, I’ll venture down. [Goes halfway down and stops.
Enter Abevile, Harlequin, Musick and Willmore.
Will. Whither will this Boy conduct me?—but since to a Woman, [no matter whither ’tis].
Feth. Hah, more Company; now dare not I stir up nor down, they may be Bravoes to cut my Throat.
Beau. Oh sure these are they—
Will. Come, my Heart, lose no time, but tune your Pipes. [Harlequin plays on his Guittar, and sings.
Beau. How, sure this is some Rival. [Goes near and listens.
Will. Harkye, Child, hast thou ne’er an amorous Ditty, short and sweet, hah—
Abev. Shall I not sing that you gave me, Sir?
Will. I shall spoil all with hard Questions—Ay, Child—that that. [[Abev. sings], Beau. listens, and seems angry the while.