Sir Jol. No, 'tis for not being civil to his family, that it means, gentlemen; therefore are you to be murdered to-night, and buried a-bed with my lady, you Jack Straw, you.
Beau. I understand you, friends; the old gentleman has designed to have me butchered, and you have kindly contrived to turn it to my advantage in the affair of love. I am to be murdered but as it were, gentlemen, ha? [Exit Courtine.
Four. Your honour has a piercing judgment. Sir, Captain Courtine's gone.
Beau. No matter, let him go: he has a design to put in practice this night too, and would perhaps but spoil ours. But when, Sir Jolly, is this business to be brought about?
Sir Jol. Presently; 'tis more than time 'twere done already. Go, get you gone, I say. Hold, hold, let's see your left ear first, hum—ha—you are a rogue, you're a rogue; get you gone, get you gone, go. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—Outside Sir Davy Dunce's House.
Enter Sylvia and her Maid in the Balcony.
Maid. But why, madam, will you use him so inhumanly? I'm confident he loves you.
Sylv. Oh! a true lover is to be found out like a true saint, by the trial of his patience. Have you the cords ready?