Boy. What, is my master mad, trow?
[LOVEBY snatches up the hat, looks in it hastily, and sees nothing but the paper.
Low. Now, the devil take the devil! A plague! was ever man served so as I am! [Throws his hat upon the ground.] To break the bands of amity for one hundred pieces! Well, it shall be more out of thy way than thou imaginest, devil: I'll turn parson, and be at open defiance with thee: I'll lay the wickedness of all people upon thee, though thou art never so innocent; I'll convert thy bawds and whores; I'll Hector thy gamesters, that they shall not dare to swear, curse, or bubble; nay, I'll set thee out so, that thy very usurers and aldermen shall fear to have to do with thee.
[A noise within of ISABELLA and FRANCES.
Enter FRANCES, thrusting back ISABELLA and TIMOROUS.
Franc. How now, what's the matter?
Isa. Nay, sweet mistress, be not so hard-hearted; all I desire of you is but harbour for a minute: you cannot, in humanity, deny that small succour to a gentlewoman.
Franc. A gentlewoman! I thought so; my house, affords no harbour for gentlewomen: you are a company of proud harlotries: I'll teach you to take place of tradesmen's wives, with a wannion to you.
Lov. How's this! Madam Isabella!
Isa. Mr Loveby! how happy am I to meet with you in my distress!