Brun. 'Tis well, your trust invites you to a second charge,
You know Leforte's Cell.
Lecure. Who constellated your fair birth.
Brun. Enough, I see thou know'st him, where's Bawdber?
Lec. I left him careful of the project cast,
To raise Protaldie's credit.
Brun. A sore that must be plaister'd, in whose wound
Others shall find their graves, think themselves sound,
Your ear, and quickest apprehension. [Exeunt.
Enter Bawdber and a servant.
Bawdb. This man of war will advance.
Lecu. His hour's upon the stroke.
Bawdb. Wind him back, as you favour my ears,
I [lo]ve no noise in my head, my brains have hitherto
Been imploy'd in silent businesses.
Enter Devitry.