Trice.  Or, as the vulgar translation hath it, a very sufficient and singular good bawd:  Is’t not so, boy?

Lov.  Ay, boy:  Now for such a pettifogging fellow as thy clerk to persecute this lady; pr’ythee think on’t:  Tis a grievance of the free-born subject.

L.  Du Lake.  To see the ingratitude of this generation!  That I, that have spent my youth; set at nought my fortune; and, what is more dear to me, my honour, in the service of gentlemen; should now, in my old age, be left to want and beggary, as if I were the vilest and most unworthy creature upon God’s earth! [Crying.

Lov.  Nay, good mother, do not take it so bitterly.

L.  Du Lake.  I confess, the unkindness of it troubles me.

Lov.  Thou shalt not want, so long as I live.—­Look, here’s five pieces of cordial gold, to comfort thy heart with:  I won it, e’en now, off Mr Justice; and I dare say he thinks it well bestowed.

Trice.  My money’s gone to very pious uses.

L.  Du Lake. [Laying her hand on LOVEBY’S head.] Son Loveby, I knew thy father well; and thy grandfather before him.  Fathers they were both to me; and I could weep for joy to see how thou tak’st after them. [Weeping again.] I wish it lay in my power too to gratify this worthy Justice in my vocation.

Trice.  ’Faith, I doubt I am past that noble sin.

Lov.  Pr’ythee, good magistrate, drink to her, and wipe sorrow from her eyes.

Trice.  Right reverend, my service to you in canary. [She drinks after him, and stays at half a glass.

L.  Du Lake.  ’Tis a great way to the bottom; but heaven is all-sufficient to give me strength for it. [Drinks it up.] Why, God’s blessing on your heart, son Trice!  I hope ’tis no offence to call you son? hem!—­hem!—­Son Loveby, I think my son Trice and I are much of the same years:  let me see, son, if nature be utterly extinct in you:  Are you ticklish, son Trice? [Tickles him.

Trice.  Are you ticklish, Mother Du Lake?

[Tickles her sides.  She falls off her chair; he falls off his to her; they roll one over the other.

Lov.  I would have all London now show me such another sight of kindness in old age. [They help each other up.] Come, a dance, a dance; call for your clerk, Justice; he shall make one, in sign of amity.  Strike up, fidlers!

[They dance a round dance, and sing the tune.

Enter ISABELLA and CONSTANCE.

Isa.  Are you at that sport, i’faith?  Have among you, blind harpers. [She falls into the dance.

[At the dance’s ending, LOVEBY sees CONSTANCE.

Trice.  Is she come?  A pox of all honest women at such a time!

Lov.  If she knows who these are, by this light, I am undone.