Watch. Yes, forsooth; there's a coachman dead, full of the tokens.
Sad. Where's the officer?
Watch. He is gone to seek the lady of the house and some other company that dined here yesterday, to bring her in, or carry her to the pest-house.
Wid. Ha! What shall we do, niece?
Sad. If you please to command our lodging.
Plea. It will be too much trouble.
Wid. Let's go to Loveall's.
Plea. Not I, by my faith: it is scarce for our credits to let her come to us.
Wid. Why, is she naught?
Con. Faith, madam, her reputation is not good.