(SCENE 1.)[70] _Enter_Sucket,_Crackbie,_Grimes_. _Gr_.

Gentlemen, the rarest scene of mirth towards! _Suc_. Where? how, good _Grimes_? _Gr_. Oh, the steward, the steward, my fine Temperat steward, did soe lecture us before my ladie for drinking .

.. at midnight, has gott the key of the wine C[ellar from] _Timothie_ the Butler and is gon downe to make [himself] drunke in pryvate.

_Enter_Timothie_. _Tim_. Gent[lemen], _Grimes_, away, away! I watcht him into t[he Cellar] when I saw him chose forthe one of the b[ottles] of sacke, and hether is retyringe with all exp[edition].

Close, close, and be not seene. _Crac_. Oh, my fine steward! [_Exeunt_.

_Enter_Alexander_Lovell_with_a_Bottle_of_Sacke_and_a_Cup_. _Lov_. Soe here I may be private, and privacie is best.