1 Bro. Not who did this wrong?
Lap. Only a thing came like a Walking Song.
1 Bro. What beaten with a Song?
Lap. Never more tightly, Gentlemen:
Such crotchets happen now and then, methinks
He that endures well, of all waters drinks. [Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima.
Enter Shamont's Brother, the Soldier, and 1 Gentleman.
Sold. Yes, yes, this was a Madman, Sir, with you,
A passionate Mad-man.
1 Gen. Who would ha' lookt for this, Sir?
Sold. And must be priviledg'd: a pox priviledge him:
I was never so dry beaten since I was born,
And by a litter of rogues, meer rogues, the whole twenty
Had not above [nine] elbows amongst 'em all too:
And the most part of those left-handed rascals,
The very vomit, Sir, of Hospitals,
Bridewels, and Spittle-houses; such nasty smellers,
That if they'd been unfurnish'd of Club-Truncheons,
They might have cudgell'd me with their very stinks,
It was so strong, and sturdy: and shall this,
This filthy injury, be set off with madness?