Wild. I must be known, as good at first; now jeer on,
But do not anger me too impudently,
The Rabbi will be mov'd then.
Lur. How? Jack Wildbrain,
What time o'th' Moon man, ha? what strange bells
Hast in thy brains?
Wild. No more bells,
No more bells, they ring backwards.
Lur. Why, where's the wench, the blessing that befel thee?
The unexpected happiness? where's that Jack?
Where are thy golden days?
Wild. It was his trick, as sure as I am louzie,
But how to be reveng'd—
Lur. Fie, fie, Jack,
Marry a Watchmans widow in thy young daies,
With a revenue of old Iron and a Rugg?
Is this the Paragon, the dainty piece,
The delicate divine rogue?
Wild. 'Tis enough, I am undone,
Mark'd for a misery, and so leave prating;
Give me my Bill.
Lur. You need not ask your Taylors,
Unless you had better Linings; it may be,
To avoid suspition, you are going thus
Disguis'd to your fair Mistriss.
Wild. Mock no further,
Or as I live, I'll lay my Bill o' thy pate,
I'll take a Watchmans fury into my fingers,
To ha no judgement to distinguish persons,
And knock thee down.
Lur. Come, I ha done, and now
Will speak some comfort to thee, I will lead thee
Now to my Mistriss hitherto conceal'd;
She shall take pity on thee too, she loves
A handsome man; thy misery invites me
To do thee good, I'll not be jealous, Jack;
Her beauty shall commend it self; but do not,
When I have brought you into grace, supplant me.