_Luce._ By this hand Mistris 'tis a noise, a loud one too, and from
her own mouth, presently to be gone too, but why, or to what end?

_Short._ May not a man die first? she'l give him so much time.

_Isab._ Gone o'th' sudden? thou dost but jest, she must not mock
the Gentlemen.

_Luce._ She has put them off a month, th[e]y dare not see her,
believe me Mistris, what I hear I tell you.

_Isab._ Is this true, wench? gone on so short a warning! what trick
is this? she never told me of it, it must not be, sirra, attend me
presently, you know I have been a carefull friend unto you, attend me in
the Hall, and next be faithful, cry not, we shall not go.

_Short._ Her Coach may crack.

_Enter_ Valentine, Francisco, _and_ Lance.

_Val._ Which way to live! how darest thou come to town, to ask such
an idle question?

_Fran._ Me thinks 'tis necessary, unless you could restore that
Annuitie you have tipled up in Taverns.

_Val._ Where hast thou been, and how brought up _Francisco_,
that thou talkest thus out of _France_? thou wert a pretty fellow,
and of a handsom knowledge; who has spoiled thee?