Land. I'll never whore again, never give petticoats
And Wastcoats at five pound apiece: good mother,
Quickly mother; now mock on Son.
John. A Devil grind your old Chaps. [Exit Landlady.
Fred. By this hand, wench,
I'll give thee a new hood for this.
Has she met with your Lordship?
John. Touch-wood take her.
Enter A[n]thony.
She's a rare ghostly Mother.
Ant. Below attends ye
The Gentlemans man, Sir, that was with you.
John. Well, Sir;
My time is come then; yet if my project hold,
You shall not stay behind; I'll rather trust
Enter Constantia.
A Cat with sweet milk, Frederick; by her face,
I feel her fears are working.