Pen. I'll look to him ti[th]ly.
Lop. Lord, what comes here,
A walking apparition? [Boy sings upon Bartello's Shoulder.
Isab. Saint Christopher.
Rho. Mercy o' me, what is it?
How like my Husband it looks?
Bar. Get ye down devil,
I'll break your neck else: was ever man thus chimnied?
Lop. Go pay the boys well; see them satisfied.
Pen. Come Monsieur Devils, come my Black-berries
I'll butter ye o' both sides.
[Boy Exit [saying Adieu Madam, adieu Madam].
Isab. Nay, ev'n look Sir, are you cooled now, Captain?
Bar. I am cuckolled, and fool'd to boot too:
Fool'd fearfully, fool'd shamefully.