Fab. Content, hang me if I like not the cast of it rarely, for no question
It is an approv'd Receipt to fetch such a fellow;
Take all the women-kind in this house, betwixt the Age of one,
And one hundred, and let them take unto them a pot or a
Bowl containing seven quarts or upwards, and let them
Never leave, till the above named
Pot or Bowl become full, then let one of them stretch out
Her Arm, and pour it on his head, and probatum est, it
Will fetch him, for in his anger he will run up, and then let
Us alone.
Clor. Go you and do it. [Exit Maid.
Fran. Good Clora, no.
Clor. Away I say, & do it, never fear, we have enough of that
Water ready distill'd.
Fran. Why, this will make him mad, Fabricio,
He'll neither love me drunk nor sober now.
Fab. I warrant you; what, is the wench come up?
Enter Wench.
Clor. Art thou there, wench?
Wench. I.
Fab. Look out then if thou canst see him.