Fred. I dare not.
John. Not wide open,
But just so, as a jealous husband
Would level at his wanton wife through.
Fred. That courtesie,
If ye desire no more, and keep it strictly,
I dare afford ye: come, 'tis now near morning. [Exit.
SCENE II.
Enter Peter, and Anthony.
Pet. Nay the old woman's gone too.
Ant. She's a Catterwauling
Among the gutters: But conceive me, Peter,
Where our good Masters should be?
Pet. Where they should be
I do conceive, but where they are, good Anthony—
Ant. I, there it goes: my Masters bo-peep with me,
With his slye popping in and out again,
Argued a cause, a frippery cause.
Pet. Believe me,
They bear up with some carvel.