Jul. You have hit the cause I come for; there's a Letter,
Pray ye peruse it well; I shall be wi' ye;
And suddenly, I fear not, finely, daintily,
I shall so feed your fierce vexation,
And raise your Worships storms; I shall so niggle ye,
And juggle ye, and fiddle ye, and firk ye:
I'll make ye curse the hour ye vext a Woman;
I'll make ye shake when our Sex are but sounded;
For the Lords sake we shall have him at; I long to see it
As much as for my wedding night; I gape after it.
Mast. This Letter says the Gentleman is lunatick,
I half suspected it.
Jul. 'Tis very true, Sir,
And such pranks he has plaid.
Mast. He's some great man,
The Duke commands me with such care to look to him,
And if he grow too violent, to correct him,
To use the speediest means for his recovery,
And those he must find sharp.
Jul. The better for him.
Mast. How got ye him hither?
Jul. With a train, I told him;
He's in love with a Boy, there lyes his melancholy.
Mast. Hither he came to seek one.
Jul. Yes, I sent him,
Now had we dealt by force, we had never brought him.
Mast. Here was a Boy.