Ma. I think they are all gone.
Tom. All, ye did wisely.
Ma. And you as craftily.
Tom. We are well met Mistress.
Ma. Come, let's goe in then lovingly: O my Skarf Tom.
I lost it thereabout, find it, and wear it
As your poor Mistress favour. [Exit.
Tom. I am made now,
I see no venture is in no hand: I have it,
How now? the door lock't, and she in before?
Am I so trim'd?
Ma. One parting word sweet Thomas,
Though to save your credit, I discharg'd your Fidler,
I must not satisfie your folly too Sir,
Ye'are subtle, but believe it Fox, I'le find ye,
The Surgeons will be here straight, roar again boy,
And break thy legs for shame, thou wilt be sport else,
Good night.
Tom. She saies most true, I must not stay: she has bob'd me,
Which if I live, I'le recompence, and shortly,
Now for a Ballad to bring me off again.
All young men be warn'd by me, how you do goe a wooing.
Seek not to climb, for fear ye fall, thereby comes your undoing, &c.
[Exeunt.