Wild. The case is clear, and I ha found a Mine,
A perfect Indie, since my Aunt cashier'd me;
What think'st of this?
Tob. Oh delicate bells.
Wild. Thou puttest me in mind,
We are to ring anon, I mean[t] to send for thee;
Meet me at the old Parish Church.
Tob. Say no more.
Wild. When thy Lady is a bed, we ha conspir'd
A midnight peal for joy.
Tob. If I fail, hang me i' th' bell-ropes.
Wild. And how? and how does my Aunt?
Tob. She's up to th' ears in Law;
I do so whirl her to the Counsellors chambers,
And back again, and bounce her for more money,
And too again, I know not what they do with her;
But she's the merriest thing among these Law-drivers;
And in their studies half a day together;
If they do get her with Magna Charta, she swears,
By all the ability of her old body,
She will so claw the Justice, she will sell
The tiles of the house she vows, and Sack out o'th' Cellar,
(That she worships to Idolatry) but she'll hang him.
Wild. I would she could: but hark thee honest Toby.
If a man have a Mistriss, may we not,
Without my Aunt's leave, borrow now and then
A Coach to tumble in, towards the Exchange,
And so forth?
Tob. A Mistriss?