SCENE II.

_A Street._

_Enter_ FITSGRAVE.[533]

FIT. My pocket pick’d? this was no brothel-house! A music-school? damnation has fine shapes: I paid enough for the song, I’ve[534] lost a jewel To me more precious than their souls to them That gave consent to filch it. I’ll hunt hard, Waste time and money, trace and wheel about, But I will find these secret mischiefs out.

_Enter Servant._

How now? what’s he? O, a servant to my love: being thus disguis’d, I’ll learn some news. [_Aside._]—Now, sir? you belong to me.[535] SER. I do, sir; but I cannot stay to say so: nay, good sir, detain me not; I am going in all haste to inquire or lay wait for a chain of pearl, nimmed out of her pocket the fifth of November, a dismal day. FIT. Ha! a chain of pearl, sayst thou? SER. A chain of pearl, sir, which one master Fitsgrave, a gentleman and a suitor, fastened upon her as a pledge of his love. FIT. Ha! SER. Urge me no more, I have no more to say; Your friend, Jeronimo Bedlam. [_Exit._ FIT. Thou’rt a mad fellow indeed. Some comfort yet, that hers is missing too; I feel my soul at much more ease: both stoln![536] When griefs have partners they are better borne. [_Exit._