Bon. I shall grow childish, too; my passions strive For my dead love to keepe my greife alive.
[Exit.
Actus Secundus.
(SCENE 1.)[70]
Enter Sucket, Crackbie, Grimes.
Gr. Gentlemen, the rarest scene of mirth towards!
Suc. Where? how, good Grimes?
Gr. Oh, the steward, the steward, my fine Temperat steward, did soe lecture us before my ladie for drinking … at midnight, has gott the key of the wine C[ellar from] Timothie the Butler and is gon downe to make [himself] drunke in pryvate.
Enter Timothie.
Tim. Gent[lemen], Grimes, away, away! I watcht him into t[he Cellar] when I saw him chose forthe one of the b[ottles] of sacke, and hether is retyringe with all exp[edition]. Close, close, and be not seene.