Mons. Nor I.
Ger. Sirrah, tell your master, if he cannot protect us from the constable, and these midnight coursers, 'tis not a house for us.
Mar. Tell 'em you have nobody in the house, and shut the doors.
Wait. They'll not be satisfied with that, they'll break open the door. They searched last night all over the house for my Lord Fisk, and Sir Jeffery Jantee, who were fain to hide themselves in the bar under my mistress's chair and petticoats.
Mons. Wat, do the women hunt out the men so now?
Mar. Ay, ay, things are altered since you went to Paris; there's hardly a young man in town dares be known of his lodging for 'em.
Ger. Bailiffs, pursuivants, or a city constable, are modest people in comparison of them.
Mar. And we are not so much afraid to be taken up by the watch as by the tearing midnight ramblers, or huzza women.
Mons. Jarni! ha! ha! ha!