Fab. Never entreat me, for I will not know thee,
Nor utter one word for thee, unless it be
To have thee hang'd; for Heaven sake be more temperate.
Jac. I have a sword still, and I am a villain.
Clor. &c. Hold, hold, hold.
Jac. Ha?
Clor. Away with him for Heavens sake
He's too desperate for our enduring.
Fab. Come, you shall sleep, come strive not
I'le have it so, here take him to his lodging, and
See him laid before you part. [Exeunt Jac. with Ser.
Serv. We will Sir.
Fred. Ne're wonder, I am living yet, and well,
I thank you Sister for your grief, pray keep it
Till I am fitter for it.
Fab. Do you live Sir?
Fred. Yes, but 'twas time to counterfeit, he was grown
To such a madness in his wine.