Brain. You have your utmost answer.
Limb. If this maggot bite a little deeper, we shall have you a citizen of Bethlem yet, ere dog-days. Well, I say little; but I will tell Pug on it.
[Exit.
Brain. She knows it already, by your favour— [Knocking.
Sound a retreat, you lusty lovers, or the enemy will charge you in the flank, with a fresh reserve: March off, march off upon the spur, ere he can reach you.
Wood. How now, baron Tell-clock[12], is the passage clear?
Brain. Clear as a level, without hills or woods, and void of ambuscade.
Wood. But Limberham will return immediately, when he finds not his mistress where he thought he left her.
Brain. Friendship, which has done much, will yet do more. [Shows a key.] With this passe par tout, I will instantly conduct her to my own chamber, that she may out-face the keeper, she has been there; and, when my wife returns, who is my slave, I will lay my conjugal commands upon her, to affirm, they have been all this time together.
Wood. I shall never make you amends for this kindness, my dear Padron. But would it not be better, if you would take the pains to run after Limberham, and stop him in his way ere he reach the place where he thinks he left his mistress; then hold him in discourse as long as possibly you can, till you guess your wife may be returned, that so they may appear together?
Brain. I warrant you: laissez faire a Marc Antoine.[Exit.