O. ART. Ay, knock in any case.

O. LUS. 'Twas well you put it in my mind to knock,
I had forgotten it else, I promise you.

O. ART. Tush, is't not my son's and your daughter's door,
And shall we two stand knocking? Lead the way.

O. LUS. Knock at our children's doors! that were a jest.
Are we such fools to make ourselves so strange,
Where we should still be boldest? In, for shame!
We will not stand upon such ceremonies.

[_Exeunt_.



SCENE III.


_The Street_.

_Enter_ ANSELM _and_ FULLER.

FUL. Speak: in what cue, sir, do you find your heart,
Now thou hast slept a little on thy love?

ANS. Like one that strives to shun a little plash
Of shallow water, and (avoiding it)
Plunges into a river past his depth: