Ped. Be not afraid, Man,
Let 'em be what they will, they cannot hurt us.
Rod. That thing i'th' Button'd-cap looks terribly.
She has Guns in her eyes, the Devils Ingeneer.
Ped. Come, stand, and let's go meet 'em.
Rod. Go you first.
I have less faith: when I have said my Prayers—
Ped. There needs no fear, hale reverend dames.
Alin. Good even.
What do ye seek?
Ped. We would seek happier fortunes.
Rod. That little devil has main need of a Barber,
What a trim beard she has!
Alin. Seek 'em, and make 'em,
Lie not still, nor longer here,
Here inhabits nought but fear,
Be constant good, in faith be clear,
Fortune will wait ye every where.
Ped. Whither should we go? for we believe thy reverence,
And next obey.