Non.  He told it me with his own mouth, child:  I’ll eat words for no man; that’s more than ever I told him yet.

Fail.  You told him so but just now; fie, Sir Timorous.

Non.  He shall have no daughter of mine, an he were a thousand knights; he told me, he hoped I would speak for him:  I’ll eat no man’s words; that’s more than ever I told him yet.

Isa.  You need not keep such a pudder about eating his words; you see he has eaten ’em already for you.

Non.  I’ll make him stand to his words, and he shall not marry my daughter neither:  By this good day, I will. [Exit NONSUCH.

Const.  ’Tis an ill day to him; he has lost two hundred and fifty pounds in’t. [To ISABELLA.

Burr.  He swears at the rate of two thousand pounds a year, if the Rump act were still in being.

Fail.  He’s in passion, man; and, besides, he has been a great fanatic formerly, and now has got a habit of swearing, that he may be thought a cavalier.

Burr.  What noise is that?  I think I hear your cousin Trice’s voice.

Fail.  I’ll go see. [Exit FAIL.

Isa.  Come, Sir Timorous, be not discouraged:  ’Tis but an old man’s frowardness; he’s always thus against rain.

Enter FAILER.

Fail.  O madam, follow me quickly; and if you do not see sport, melancholy be upon my head.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The SCENE changes, and TRICE is discovered playing at tables by himself, with spectacles on, a bottle, and parmezan by him; they return and see him, undiscovered by him.

Trice.  Cinque and quatre:  My cinque I play here, sir; my quatre here, sir:  Now for you, sir:  But first I’ll drink to you, sir; upon my faith I’ll do you reason, sir:  Mine was thus full, sir!  Pray mind your play, sir:—­Size ace I have thrown:  I’ll play ’em at length, sir.

—­Will you, sir?  Then you have made a blot sir; I’ll try if I can enter:  I have hit you, sir.

—­I think you can cog a dye, sir.

—­I cog a dye, sir?  I play as fair as you, or any man.

—­You lie, sir.

—­How! lie, sir?  I’ll teach you what ’tis to give a gentleman the lie, sir.

[Throws down the tables.

[They all laugh and discover themselves.

Isa.  Is this your serious business?

Trice.  O you rogue, are you there?  You are welcome, huswife; and so are you, Constance, Fa tol de re tol de re la. [Claps their backs.

Isa.  Pr’ythee be not so rude, Trice.

Trice.  Huswife Constance, I’ll have you into my larder, and shew you my provision:  I have cockles, dainty fat cockles, that came in the night; if they had seen the day, I would not have given a fart for ’em.  I would the king had ’em.