No more should servants approach their mistresses, but when they are complete and finished.

CLE. Well said, my Truewit.

TRU. And a wise lady will keep a guard always upon the place, that she may do things securely. I once followed a rude fellow into a chamber, where the poor madam, for haste and troubled, snatched at her peruke to cover her baldness: and put it on, the wrong way.

CLE. Oh prodigy!

TRU. And the unconscionable knave held her in compliment an hour, with that reversed face, when I still looked when she should talk from the t'other side.

CLE. Why, thou shouldst ha' relieved her.

TRU. No faith, I let her alone, as we'll let this argument, if you please, and pass to another. When saw you Dauphine Eugenie?

CLE. Not these three days. Shall we go to him this morning? He is very melancholic, I hear.

TRU. Sick o' the uncle? Is he? I met that stiff piece of formality, his uncle, yesterday, with a huge turban of nightcaps on his head, buckled over his ears.

CLE. Oh, that's his custom when he walks abroad. He can endure no noise, man.

TRU. So I have heard. But is the disease so ridiculous in him as it is made? They say he has been upon divers treaties with the fishwives, and orange- women; and articles propounded between them: marry, the chimney-sweepers will not be drawn in.

CLE. No, nor the broom-men: they stand out stiffly. He cannot endure a costard-monger, he swoons if he hear one.

TRU. Methinks, a smith should be ominous.

CLE. Or any hammer-man. A brazier is not suffered to dwell in the parish, nor an armourer. He would have hanged a pewterer's 'prentice once upon a Shrove Tuesday's riot, for being o' that trade, when the rest were quit.

TRU. A trumpet should fright him terribly, or the hautboys?

CLE. Out of his senses. The waits of the city have a pension of him, not to come near that ward. This youth practised on him one night, like the bellman; and never left till he had brought him down to the door with a long-sword: and there left him flourishing with the air.

BOY. Why, sir! He hath chosen a street to lie in, so narrow at both ends that it will receive no coaches, nor carts, nor any of these common noises: and therefore we that love him, devise to bring him in such as we may, now and then, for his exercise, to breathe him. He would grow resty else in his ease. His virtue would rust without action. I entreated a bear-ward one day to come down with the dogs of some four parishes that way, and I thank him, he did; and cried his games under Master Morose's window: till he was sent crying away, with his head made a most bleeding spectacle to the multitude.