Bust. I shall want stuffe, I doubt 'twill come to the other
Pistolet.
Ant. Well, lay out, you shall be no looser Sir.
Bust. It must be faced, you know, there will be a yard of dissimulation
At least (City-measure) and cut upon an untroth or two: Lyned
With Fables, that must needs be, cold weather's coming, if it had
A gallon of hypocrisie, 'twould do well: and hooked
Together with a couple of conceits,
That's necessity; well, I'll bring in my
Bill: I'll warrant you as fair a lye by that time I have done
With it, as any Gentleman i'th' Town can swear to, if he
Would betray his Lord and Master. [Exit.
Ant. So, so, this necessary trouble's over.
Mar. I would you had bought an excuse of him
Before he went: you'll want one for Ismenia.
Ant. Tush, there needs none, there's no suspition yet,
And I'll be arm'd before the next encounter,
In a fast tye with my fair Isabella.
Enter Bustofa.
Mar. Yes, you'll find your errand is before you now.
Bust. Oh Gentlemen, look to your selves, ye are
Men of another world else; your enemies are upon you;
The old house of the Bellides will fall upon your heads:
Signior Lisauro.
Ant. Lisauro?