Gal. Why, Gad-a-mercy, Lad.
Fil.—And break my Chains, if possible.
Gal. Thou wilt give a good essay to that I’ll warrant thee, Before she part with thee; come let’s about it.
[They are going out on either side of Fil. persuading him.
Mar. He’s gone, the Curtezan has got the day, [Aside. Vice has the start of Virtue every way; And for one Blessing honest Wives obtain, The happier Mistress does a thousand gain. I’ll home—and practise all their Art to prove, That nothing is so cheaply gain’d as Love. [Exit.
Gal. Stay, what Farce is this—prithee let’s see a little. [Offering to go.
[Enter Sir Signal, Mr. Tickletext, with his Cloke ty’d about him, a great Inkhorn ty’d at his Girdle and a great folio under his Arm, Petro drest like an Antiquary.
—How now, Mr. Tickletext, what, drest as if you were going a Pilgrimage to Jerusalem?
Tick. I make no such profane Journeys, Sir.
Gal. But where have you been, Mr. Tickletext?