Alph. 'Shalt have both.
Jul. But not this way, I had rather be an Adamite,
And bring Fig-tree leaves into fashion again.
If you were young, Sir,
Handsome, and fitted to a Womans appetite;
And I a giddy-headed Girl, that car'd for nothing,
Much might be done; then you might fumble with me,
And think to grope out matters of some moment,
Which now you will put too short for;
For what you have seen hitherto
And know by me, has been but honest service,
Which I dare pin i'th' market-place to answer;
And let the World, the Flesh, and Devil examine it,
And come you in too, I dare stand your strictest.
And so much good may do you, with your dreams of courtesie.
Alph. This is most monstrous.
Enter Porter, and Servants.
Seb. Sure she does not know, Sir;
She durst not be so confident, and guilty.
Alph. How now, what news? what hopes and steps discovered?
Speak any thing that's good, that tends to th' matter;
Do you stand staring still?
1 Serv. We are no gods, Sir,
To say she is here or there, or what she is doing;
But we have search'd.
Port. I am sure she is not i'th' Cellar;
For look you, Sir, if she had been i'th' Cellar—
Alph. I am sure thou hast been there.
Port. As I carried the matter,
For I search'd every piece of Wine; yes sure, Sir,
And every little Terse, that could but testifie;
And I drew hard to bolt her out.