Enter Thomas, with a Book.
Thom. What sweet content dwells here!
Lau. Put up your Book Sir,
We are all undone else.
Seb. Tom, when is the horse-race?
Thom. I know not Sir.
Seb. You will be there?
Tho. Not I Sir,
I have forgot those journeys.
Seb. Spoil'd for ever.
The Cocking holds at Derby, and there will be
Jack Wild-oats, and Will Purser.
Tho. I am sorry, Sir,
They should employ their time so slenderly,
Their understandings will bear better courses.
Seb. Yes, I will marry again: but Monsieur Thomas,
What say ye to the Gentleman that challeng'd ye
Before he went, and the fellow ye fell out with?