Wid. Who let in these puppies? you blind rascals, you drunken Knaves several.
Short. Yes forsooth, I'le let 'em in presently,—Gentlemen.
Wid. Sprecious, you blown Pudding, bawling Rogue.
Short. I bawl as loud as I can, would you have me fetch 'em upon my back.
Wid. Get 'em out rascal, out with 'em, out, I sweat to have 'em near me.
Short. I should sweat more to carry 'em out.
Roger. They are Gentlemen Madam.
Short. Shall we get 'em into th' butterie, and make'em drunk?
Wid. Do any thing, so I be eased.
Enter Isabel, Fount, Bella, Hare.