SCENE VIII.

_Enter_ HEATH _and_ CURDS.

HEATH. Yes, it is a very neat house; 'tis at the, sign of the Bull; 'tis newly covered with calves'-skins, and paved with knuckle-bones. Thou shalt not deny me; we'll be there to-night; and 'tis but three hours' journey. Let me have thy bundles of necessaries an hour hence, and I'll see 'um safe sent before. Thou shalt be the lady o' th' town.

CURDS. I have been one in my days, when we kept the Whitson ale, where we danced _The Building of London Bridge upon wool-packs_[243] and _The Hay_[244] upon a grass-plat, and when we were aweary with dancing hard, we always went to the cushion dance.

HEATH. Ay, we'll have dancing at our wedding too, when the cups of canary have made our heads frisk. O, how we shall foot it, when we can scarce stand, and caper when we are cut in the leg! The first year shall be a leap-year with us.

CURDS. What shall we have at our wedding dinner? We'll be sure of a plum-pudding, that shall be the very flower of the feast.

HEATH. Then a leg of beef shall walk round the table, like a city captain with a target of lamb before it: a snipe, with his long bill, shall be a serjeant, and a capon carry the drumsticks. Thou shalt be lady-general, and pick out the choicest of every dish for thy life-guard.

CURDS. I'll pay them to the full. [_Aside._

HEATH. Till anon good-bye. [_Exit_ HEATH.

_Enter_ BUDGET, DITTY, GUM.

DITTY. Pox o' thy ugly face! ca'st not sing but thou must cry too? Look, there she is; good Gum, hold my shop a little.

BUD. And mine too.

GUM. Now do I look like one of the pillars in the Exchange. [_Exit._

BUD. _Sweet lady, smile on me._

CURDS. [_Aside._] Hissing adders!

BUD. _Now merrily:_ _For if thou frown on me,_ _Sure I shall die._ BOTH. _Sure I shall die, &c._

CURDS. Croaking toads.

BUD. _Thy eyes, like a cockatrice,_ _Kill with a look:_ _They shine like the sun,_ _I'd swear on a book._

CURDS. Away, screech-owls!

BOTH. _I swear on a book, &c._ [_Exit_ CURDS.

BUD. Stay, Ditty, she is deaf, and would not hear though Orpheus played, nor be moved though the stones and trees danced.

DITTY. Give me thy letter then--I'll run after her and deliver it myself.

BUD. Prythee, do, kind-hearted Ditty.

DITTY. O, what a nimble Cupid shall I be! Venus herself will mistake me for her boy.

BUD. I'll wait here till thou returnest.

[_Exit_ DITTY.[245]