One, two, three, and four,
We shall be merry within this hour.
Mist. Mer. Why Charles do you not know your own natural wife? I say open the door, and turn me out those mangy companions; 'tis more than time that they were fellow like with you: you are a Gentleman Charles, and an old man, and father of two children; and I my self, (though I say it) by my mothers side, Niece to a Worshipful Gentleman, and a Conductor, he has been three times in his Majesties service at Chester, and is now the fourth time, God bless him, and his charge upon his journey.
Old Mer. Go from my window, love go:
Go from my window my dear,
The wind and the rain will drive you back again,
You cannot be lodged here.
Hark you Mistriss Merri-thought, you that walk upon Adventures, and forsake your Husband, because he sings with never a penny in his purse; what shall I think my self the worse? Faith no, I'll be merry.
You come not here, here's none but Lads of mettle, lives of a hundred years, and upwards, care never drunk their bloods, nor want made them warble.
Hey-ho, my heart is heavy.
Mist. Mer. Why M. Merri-thought, what am I that you should laugh me to scorn thus abruptly? am I not your fellow-feeler, (as we may say) in all our miseries? your comforter in health and sickness? have I not brought you Children? are they not like you Charles? look upon thine own Image, hardhearted man; and yet for all this—
Old Mer. within. Begon, begon my juggy, my puggy, begon my love my dear.
The weather is warm, 'twill do thee no harm, thou canst not be lodged here.
Be merry boys, some light musick, and more wine.
Wife. He's not in earnest, I hope George, is he?
Cit. What if he be, sweet heart?