SCENE VI.

_The Favourites appear to their half-bodies in their shirts, in rooms above._

FLO. Why, you whoreson rogue! where's my suit? As I hope for mercy, I am half-persuaded that this slip-halter has pawned my clothes.

CAR. Nay, as our rooms be near, our fates are all alike. If my visit be admitted, I must present it naked.

JOC. When she sees her Salibrand so unmodiously accoutred, she will jeer him out of his periwig, and render him an Adamite cap-a-pie.

PAL. Never were servants without a dress less suitable to ladies of the New Dress.

SAL. We shall be held for salemen, or Knights of the White Livery, if we encounter them thus habited.

MOR. Nay, rather for Knights o' th' Post, who had forfeited their broked suits for want of swearing.

TIL. Nay, for tumblers, truckers, or scullermen: Plato, in all his Commonweal, had never such naked followers.

[_Their pages bring their clothes._

FLO. Now, you hemp-strings, had you no time to nim us, but when we were upon our visits?

PAGES. Your suits, sir, were not without employment. They were seam-rent, and stood in need of stitching.

ALL. Go to, rogues, you will never hang well together till you be stitched in a halter.

[_They attire themselves._

PAGES. Well, we got more clear gains by this shift than you will by your visit.

[_Aside._

CAR. We trench too much upon these ladies' patience: Better too late than never; let us haste To crown their longing hopes with our attendance: Delays in visits quicken our desires, And in their objects kindle secret fires.

[_They come down buttoning themselves._

[Sidenote: _Fastus in Antidotum frigoris, processit et urget Insolitos motus, lepidA|que Cupidinis A|stus, Vestibus amictus laceratis, alget et ardet._--Solin.]

FLO. 'Tis high meridian! we've lost the time Of our appointed treatment.[169]

CAR. Let's contrive Some neat evasion covertly disguis'd To bear the face of truth.

SAL. It would do well, Let's mould it as we go unto the garden.[170]

MOR. 'Twere vain to call; they're long ere this dismiss'd.[171]

PAL. And with incens'd spirits; which t' allay Were a receipt worth purchase.

TIL. Th' wound's so green, It must admit a cure. Our confidence Prepares us best admittance; go along.

[_Exeunt._