Syr, heares pen inke and paper.

And that hee might with more pleasure heare musicke, he used to cover his eyes.

Mir. I'me out of breath, yet trust not too much to't boyes, For if you pawse not suddenly, and heare reason, Doe, kill your Uncle, doe, but that I'me patient, And not a cholerick old teasty foole, Like your father, Ide daunce a matachin with you, Should make you sweat your best blood for't; I would,