Seb. Good Sir, be patient,
The wrongs ye do these men, may light on you,
Too heavy too: and then you will wish you had said less;
A comely and sweet usage becomes strangers.
Alp. We shall have half the Kingdom strangers shortly,
And this fond prodigality be suffer'd;
But I must be an Ass, see 'em relieved, sirrah;
If I were young again, I would sooner get Bear-whelps,
And safer too, than any of these she-saints,
But I will break her.
Cur. Such a face for certain.
Seb. Me thinks I have seen it too: but we are cozen'd;
But fair befal thee Pilgrim, thou lookst lovely. [Exit.
Por. Will ye troop up, ye Porridge Regiment?
Enter Alinda, and Juletta.
Captain Poors quarter will ye move?
Alin. Ye dull Knave,
Are not these wretches served yet?
Beg. 'Bless my Mistris.
Alin. Do you make sport, Sir, with their miseries?
Ye drousie Rogue.