_Isab._ I could burst now. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Valentine, Fountain, Bellamore, Harebrain.

_Val._ Upbraid me with your benefits, you Pilchers, you shotten,
sold, slight fellows? was't not I that undertook you first from empty
barrels, and brought those barking mouths that gaped like bung-holes to
utter sence? where got you understanding? who taught you manners and apt
carriage to rank your selves? who filled you in fit Taverns? were those
born with your worships when you came hither? what brought you from the
Universities of moment matter to allow you, besides your small base
sentences?

_Bell._ 'Tis well, Sir.

_Val._ Long Cloaks with two-hand-rapiers, boot-hoses with
penny-poses, and twenty fools opinions, who looked on you but piping
rites that knew you would be prizing, and Prentices in Paul's
Church-yard, that scented your want of _Britains_ Books.

_Enter_ Widow, Luce, Hairbrain.

_Font._ This cannot save you.

_Val._ Taunt my integrity you Whelps?

_Bell._ You may talk the stock we gave you out, but see no further.

_Hair._ You tempt our patience, we have found you out, and what
your trust comes to, ye're well feathered, thank us, and think now of an