Alph. Away with him;
Fling him i'th' Hay-mow, let him lye a mellowing;
He stinks of Muskadel like an English Christmas;
Are these your cares? your services?
2 Serv. Pray ye hear, Sir,
We have found where she went out, her very footing.
Alph. Where, where? go on.
Cur. Observe then with more stayedness.
2 Ser. Searching the Garden at the little Postern
That opens to the Park, we first discovered it.
Alph. A little foot?
1 Serv. It must be hers, or none, Sir.
Alph. How far beyond that?
1 Serv. To the Park it leads us,
But there the ground being hard, we could not mark it.
Alph. She always kept that Key; I was a Coxcomb,
A Fool, an Ass, to give a Girl that liberty;
Saddle my Horses, Rogues, ye drunken Varlets,
Your precious diligence lies in Pint-pots,
Your Brains in Butts, my Horses, ye pin-Buttocks.
You'll bear me Company?