Bell. Blessing on you.
If this new preacher with the sword and feather [300]
Could proue his doctrine for Canonicall,
We should haue a fine world.
Exit Bellapert.
Roch. Sir, if you please
To beare your selfe as fits a Gentleman,
The house is at your seruice: but if not,
Though you seeke company else where, your absence [305]
Will not be much lamented—
Exit Rochfort.
Rom. If this be
The recompence of striuing to preserue
A wanton gigglet honest, very shortly
’Twill make all mankinde Panders—Do you smile,
Good Lady Loosenes? your whole sex is like you, [310]
And that man’s mad that seekes to better any:
What new change haue you next?
Beau. Oh, feare not you, sir,
Ile shift into a thousand, but I will
Conuert your heresie.
Rom. What heresie? Speake.
Beau. Of keeping a Lady that is married, [315]
From entertayning seruants.—
Enter Nouall Iu. Malatine, Liladam, Aymer, Pontalier.
O, you are welcome,
Vae any meanes to vexe him,
And then with welcome follow me.