SCENE IV.

_A Street._

_Enter_ FITSGRAVE[608] _and Gentleman_.

FIT. Nay, read forward: I have found three of your gallants, like your bewitching shame,[609] merely sophistical: there’s your bawd-gallant, your pocket-gallant, and your whore-gallant. GEN. [_reads_] _Master Tailby._ FIT. That’s he. GEN. [_reads_] _I count the world but as my prey to maintain you._ FIT. That’s just the phrase and style of ’em all to him; they meet altogether in one effect, and it may well hold too, for they all jump upon one cause, _subaudi_ lechery. GEN. What shapes can flattery take! Let me entreat you, Both in the virgin’s right and our good hopes, Since your hours are so fortunate, to proceed. FIT. Why, he’s base that faints[610] until he crown his deed. [_Exit._