And ever since hath shot at hudman-blind,
Make him leap, caper, jerk, and laugh, and sing,
And play me horse-tricks;
Make Cupid wanton as his mother's dove:
But in this sort, boy, I would have thee love.

FABELL.
Why, how now, mad-cap? What, my lusty Franke,
So near a wife, and will not tell a friend?
But you will to this geere in hugger-mugger;
Art thou turned miser, Rascall, in thy loves?

JERNINGHAM.
Who, I? z'blood, what should all you see in me, that I should
look like a married man, ha? Am I bald? are my legs too
little for my hose? If I feel any thing in my forehead, I
am a villain: do I wear a night-cap? Do I bend in the hams?
What dost thou see in me, that I should be towards marriage, ha?

CLARE.
What, thou married? let me look upon thee, Rogue; who has given
out this of thee? how camst thou into this ill name? What company
hast thou been in, Rascall?

FABELL.
You are the man, sir, must have Millescent:
The match is making in the garden now;
Her jointure is agreed on, and th' old men,
Your fathers, mean to lanch their busy bags;
But in mean time to thrust Mountchensey off,