Acut. Call, call.
Grac. Hem, hem.
Citty wife. A pox on your hemmings, do you think we care for your hemmings?
Hostis. Tis some stinking troublesome knave, I warrant ye.
Citty wife. Hang him, regard him not; theres hemming indeede, like a Cat, God blesse us, with a burre in her throate. [Exeunt
Grac. S'hart, how we are ript up for this?
Ac. Oh man, this hemming is the most hatefulst thing, theres not the most publique punck,[273] nor worm-eaten bawd that can abide it, and honestie would run madde to heare it. But come we waste time, tis now about the mid of day; we must sowe arithmatike by the houres, that at[274] the morrowes highth Philautus awake again, at which time he shall be on his Hearse, and all the Guestes of the Hobbye invited to accompany his ghost, when being awake, himselfe and all shall see if drunkenesse be not mad misterie.
Grac. But I prethee, practise some milder behaviour at the ordinarie, be not al madman.
Acut. Push,[275] ile bee all observative, and yet ifaith I grieve to see this double garded[276] age, all side-coate, all foole. Fye thou keepest the sports from the marke; away, and returne. What newes is now in progresse.
Grac. I have the newest. Terentia, Daughter to the olde Senate, thogh Lentulus left the field to come to her, yet she hath forsaken him in the open field, and shee's for our young Oratour, Tully; she has vowd by Venus legge and the little God of Love, he shall be her captaine; sheele serve under him, till death us depart,[277] and thereto, I plight thee my troth.