Jasp. I desire no more.
Farewell, and keep my heart; ’tis yours.

Luce. I take it;
He must do miracles makes me forsake it.

[Exeunt severally.

[Cit. Fie upon ’em, little infidels! what a matter’s here now! Well, I’ll be hanged for a halfpenny, if there be not some abomination knavery in this play. Well; let ’em look to’t; Ralph must come, and if there be any tricks a-brewing——

Wife. Let ’em brew and bake too, husband, a’ God’s name; Ralph will find all out, I warrant you, an they were older than they are.—[Enter Boy.]—I pray, my pretty youth, is Ralph ready?

Boy. He will be presently.

Wife. Now, I pray you, make my commendations unto him, and withal carry him this stick of liquorice: tell him his mistress sent it to him; and bid him bite a piece; ’twill open his pipes the better, say.] [Exit Boy.

SCENE II.—Another Room in the House of Venturewell.

Enter Venturewell and Humphrey.

Vent. Come, sir, she’s yours; upon my faith, she’s yours;
You have my hand: for other idle lets
Between your hopes and her, thus with a wind
They are scattered and no more. My wanton prentice,
That like a bladder blew himself with love,
I have let out, and sent him to discover
New masters yet unknown.

Hum. I thank you, sir,
Indeed, I thank you, sir; and, ere I stir,
It shall be known, however you do deem,
I am of gentle blood, and gentle seem.

Vent. Oh, sir, I know it certain.

Hum. Sir, my friend,
Although, as writers say, all things have end,
And that we call a pudding hath his two,
Oh, let it not seem strange, I pray, to you,
If in this bloody simile I put
My love, more endless than frail things or gut!

[Wife. Husband, I prithee, sweet lamb, tell me one thing; but tell me truly.—Stay, youths, I beseech you, till I question my husband.

Cit. What is it, mouse?

Wife. Sirrah, didst thou ever see a prettier child? how it behaves itself, I warrant ye, and speaks and looks, and perts up the head!—I pray you, brother, with your favour, were you never none of Master Moncaster’s scholars?

Cit. Chicken, I prithee heartily, contain thyself: the childer are pretty childer; but when Ralph comes, lamb——

Wife. Ay, when Ralph comes, cony!—Well, my youth, you may proceed.]

Vent. Well, sir, you know my love, and rest, I hope,
Assured of my consent; get but my daughter’s,
And wed her when you please. You must be bold,
And clap in close unto her: come, I know
You have language good enough to win a wench.

[Wife. A whoreson tyrant! h’as been an old stringer in’s days, I warrant him.]

Hum. I take your gentle offer, and withal
Yield love again for love reciprocal.