Lod. Death, I’ve heard enough to forfeit all my Patience!—Draw, Sir, and make a trial of your Courage too.—
Wit. Hah, what desperate Fool art thou? Draws.
Lod. One that will see thee fairly damn’d, e’er yield his Interest up in Isabella—oh thou false Woman!
They fight out, [Isabella, Fanny], and Maundy run off.
[ Scene IX.] Changes to the long Street, a Pageant of an Elephant coming from the farther end with Sir Credulous on it, and several others playing on strange confused Instruments.
Sir Cred. This sure is extraordinary, or the Devil’s in’t, and I’ll ne’er trust Serenade more. Come forward, and all play again.
—Hold, hold, now for the Song, which because I wou’d have most deliciously and melodiously sung, I’ll sing my self; look ye,—hum—hum.—
Sir Credulous should have sung.
Thou Grief of my Heart, and thou Pearl of my Eyes,
[D’on thy Flannel] Petticoat quickly, and rise;