Catch. Hell take your headlong zeal!
You must be jerking at the times, forsooth.
I am afraid the times will 'scape, and we,
The men of them, shall suffer now the scourge.
Con. Let none escape.
Chris. 'Twas godliness, verily:
It was a hymn I warbled.
Con. Thou dost lie,
It was no hymn, it was a song. Is this
Your filthy rendezvous? you shall be taught
Another tune.
Chris. I do beseech you, show
Merciful cruelty, and as 'twere a kind
Of pitiful hard-heartedness. I'm strong.
[They bring in Andrew and Priscilla.
Con. I'm glad you told me so, I will provide
Your ward accordingly. Drag 'em out both.
And. Let me but send to th' ordinary.
Con. You shall not;
The ord'nary hath sent to you. No bail:
I will take none. I'll suffer no such sneaks
As you to offend this way: it doth belong
T'your betters, sir.
And. Here's a sufficient man,
I do assure you; take my word for that.