PHIL. Shall I fling an old shoe after ye?
NICH. No; you should say, God send fair weather after me!
PHIL. I mean for good luck.
NICH. A good luck on ye!
[Exit.
MR BAR. Alas, poor fool! he uses all his wit.
Philip, in faith[273] this mirth hath cheered thought,
And cosen'd it of his right play of passion.
Go after Nick, and, when thou think'st he's there,
Go in and urge to that which I have writ:
I'll in these meadows make a circling walk,
And in my meditation conjure so,
As that same[274] fiend of thought, self-eating anger,
Shall by my spells of reason[275] vanish quite:
Away, and let me hear from thee to-night.
PHIL. To-night! yes, that you shall: but hark ye, father;
Look that you my sister waking keep,
For Frank, I swear, shall kiss her, ere I sleep.
[Exeunt.
Enter FRANK and BOY.
FRAN. I am very dry with walking o'er the green.—
Butler, some beer! Sirrah, call the butler.
BOY. Nay, faith, sir, we must have some smith to give the butler a drench, or cut him in the forehead, for he hath got a horse's disease, namely the staggers; to-night he's a good huswife, he reels all that he wrought to-day; and he were good now to play at dice, for he casts[276] excellent well.