Part 4

_Vaugh._ Perdie by this Miniuer cappe, and acording to his |825| masesties leaue too, you sall be put in among theise Ladies, & daunce ere long I trest in god, the saking of the seetes.

_They daunce a straine, and whilst the others keepe on, the King and Cælestine stay._

_Kin._ That turne faire Bride shews you must turne at night, |830| In that sweet daunce which steales away delight.

_Cæl._ Then pleasure is a theife, a fit, a feauer.

_Kin._ True, he’s the thiefe, but women the receiuer.

_Another change; they fall in, the rest goe on._

_Kin._ This change sweet Maide, saies you must change your life, |835| As Virgins doe.

_Cæl._ Virgins nere change their life, She that is wiu’d a maide, is Maide and wife.

_Kin._ But she that dyes a Maide;--

_Cæl._ Thrice happy then.

|840| _Kin._ Leades Apes in hell.

_Cæl._ Better leade Apes then men.

_At this third change they end, and she meetes the King._

_Kin._ Well met.

_Cæl._ Tis ouertaken.

|845| _Kin._ Why faire sweet?

_Cæl._ Women are ouertaken when they meete.

_Kin._ Your bloud speakes like a coward.

_Cæl._ It were good, If euery Maiden blush, had such a bloud.

|850| _Kin._ A coward bloud, why whom should maidens feare?

_Cæ._ Men, were Maides cowards, they’d not come so nere, My Lord the Measure’s done, I pleade my duetie.

_Kin._ Onelie my heart takes measure of thy beautie.

_Sir quin._ Now by my hose I sweare, that’s no deepe oath, |855| This was a fine sweet earth-quake gentlie moou’d, By the soft winde of whispring Silkes: come Ladies, Whose ioynts are made out of the dauncing Orbes, Come, follow me, walke a colde measure now; In the Brides Chamber; your hot beautie’s melt, |860| Take euerie one her fan, giue them their places, And waue the Northerne winde vpon your faces.

_Cælestine and all the Ladyes doing obeysance to the King, who onely kisses her, Exeunt, Shorthose manning them, the Gallants stand aloofe._

_Kin._ Sir Walter Terrill.

|865| _Ter._ My confirmed Leige.

_Ki._ Beautie out of her bountie, thee hath lent, More then her owne with liberall extent.

_Ter._ What meanes my Lord?

_Kin._ Thy Bride, thy choice, thy wife, |870| She that is now thy fadom, thy new world, That brings thee people, and makes little subiects; Kneele at thy feete, obay in euerie thing, So euerie Father is a priuate King.

_Ter._ My Lord, her beauty is the poorest part, |875| Chieflie her vertues did endowe my heart.

_Kin._ Doe not back-bite her beauties, they all shine, Brighter on thee, because the beames are thine, To thee more faire, to others her two lips Shew like a parted Moone in thine Eclipse; |880| That glaunce, which louers mongst themselues deuise, Walkes as inuisible to others eies: Giue me thine eare.

_Cri._ What meanes the King?

_Dem._ Tis a quaint straine.

|885| _Ter._ My Lord.

_King._ Thou darst not Wat.

_Ter._ She is too course an obiect for the Court.

_Kin._ Thou darst not _W_at: let to night be to morrow.

_Ter._ For shee’s not yet mine owne.

|890| _Kin._ Thou darst not Wat?

_Ter._ My Lord I dare, but----

_King._ But I see thou darst not.

_Ter._ This night.

_King._ Yea, this night, tush thy minde repaires not, |895| The more thou talk’st of night, the more thou darst not; Thus farre I tend, I wod but turne this spheare, Of Ladies eyes, and place it in the Court, Where thy faire Bride should for the Zodiacke shine, And euery Lady else sit for a signe. |900| But all thy thoughts are yellow, thy sweet bloud Rebels, th’art iealous Wat; thus with proude reuels To emmulate the masking firmament, Where Starres dance in the siluer Hall of heauen, Thy pleasure should be seasoned, and thy bed |905| Relish thy Bride, But, but thou darst not Wat.

_Ter._ My Loord I dare.

_Kin._ Speake that agen.

_Ter._ I dare.

_King._ Agen kinde Wat, and then I know thou darst.

|910| _Ter._ I dare and will by that ioynt holy oath, Which she and I swore to the booke of heauen. This very day when the surueying Sunne, Riz like a witnes to her faith and mine, By all the loyalty that subiects owe |915| To Maiesty, by that, by this, by both, I sweare to make a double guarded oath, This night vntainted by the touch of man, She shall a Virgin come.

_Kin._ To Court? _Ter._ To Court. |920| I know I tooke a woman to my wife, And I know women to be earthly Moones, That neuer shine till night, I know they change Their Orbes (their husbands) and in sickish hearts, Steale to their sweete Endimions, to be cur’d |925| With better Phisicke, sweeter dyet drinkes, Then home can minister: all this I know Yet know not all, but giue me leaue O King, To boast of mine, and saie that I know none; I haue a woman but not such a one.

|930| _Kin._ Why, she’s confirmed in thee; I now approoue her, If constant in thy thoughts who then can mooue her?

_Enter_ Sir Quintilian.

_Sir qui._ Wilt please your Highnes take your place within, The Ladies attend the Table.

|935| _Kin._ I goe good Knight; Wat thy oath.

_Ter._ My Lord, My oath’s my honour, my honour is my life, My oath is constant, so I hope my wife.

_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Horace _in his true attyre_, Asinius _bearing his Cloake_.

|940| _Asi._ If you flye out Ningle, heer’s your Cloake; I thinke it raines too.

_Ho._ Hide my shoulders in’t.

_Asi._ Troth so th’adst neede, for now thou art in thy Pee and Kue; thou hast such a villanous broad backe, that I warrant |945| th’art able to beare away any mans iestes in England.

_Hor._ It’s well Sir, I ha strength to beare yours mee thinkes; fore God you are growne a piece of a Critist, since you fell into my hands: ah little roague, your wit has pickt vp her crums prettie and well.

|950| _Asi._ Yes faith, I finde my wit a the mending hand Ningle; troth I doe not thinke but to proceede Poetaster next Commencement, if I haue my grace perfectlie: euerie one that confer with me now, stop their nose in merriment, and sweare I smell somewhat of Horace; one calles me Horaces Ape, another |955| Horaces Beagle, and such Poeticall names it passes. I was but at Barbers last day, and when he was rencing my face, did but crie out, fellow thou makst me _Conniue_ too long, & sayes he, Master _Asinius Bubo_, you haue eene Horaces wordes as right as if he had spit them into your mouth.

|960| _Hor._ Well, away deare Asinius, deliuer this letter to the young Gallant _Druso_, he that fell so strongly in loue with mee yesternight.

_Asin._ It’s a sweete Muske-cod, a pure spic’d-gull; by this feather I pittie his _Ingenuities_; but hast writ all this since Ningle? I know |965| thou hast a good running head and thou listest.

_Hor._ Foh come, your great belly’d wit must long for euery thing too; why you _Rooke_, I haue a set of letters readie starcht to my hands, which to any fresh suited gallant, that but newlie enters his name into my rowle, I send the next morning, ere his |970| ten a clocke dreame has rize from him, onelie with claping my hand to’t, that my Nouice shall start, ho and his haire stand an end, when hee sees the sodaine flash of my writing; what you prettie Diminitiue roague, we must haue false fiers to amaze these spangle babies, these true heires of Ma. Justice Shallow.

|975| _Asi._ I wod alwaies haue thee sawce a foole thus.

_Hor._ Away, and, stay: heere be Epigrams vpon Tucca, divulge these among the gallants; as for Crispinus, that Crispin-asse and Fannius his Play-dresser; who (to make the Muses beleeue, their subiects eares were staru’d, and that there was a dearth of Poesie) |980| cut an Innocent Moore i’th middle, to serue him in twice; & when he had done, made Poules-worke of it, as for these Twynnes these _Poet-apes_:

Their Mimicke trickes shall serue With mirth to feast our Muse, whilst their owne starue.

|985| _Asin._ Well Ningle Ile trudge, but where’s the Randeuow?

_Hor._ Well thought off, marie at Sir Vaughans lodging the Welsh knight, I haue compos’d a loue-letter for the gallants worship, to his Rosamond: the second, Mistris Miniuer, because she does not thinke so soundly of his lame English as he could |990| wish; I ha gull’d his Knight-ship heere to his face, yet haue giuen charge to his wincking vnderstanding not to perceiue it: nay Gods so, away deare Bubo.

_Asi._ I am gone.

_Exit._

_Hor._ The Muses birdes the Bees were hiu’d and fled, |995| Vs in our cradle, thereby prophecying; _That we to learned eares should sweetly sing, But to the vulger and adulterate braine, Should loath to prostitute our Virgin straine_. No, our sharpe pen shall keep the world in awe, |1000| Horace thy Poesie, wormwood wreathes shall weare, We hunt not for mens loues but for their feare.

_Exit._

_Enter_ Sir Adam _and_ Miniuer.

_Min._ O Sir Adam Prickshaft, you are a the bow hand wide, a long yard I assure you: and as for Suitors, truelie they all goe |1005| downe with me, they haue all one flat answere.

_Sir Adam._ All Widdow? not all, let Sir Adam bee your first man still.

_Enter_ Sir Quintilian.

_Sir quin._ Widdow, art stolne from Table? I Sir Adam, |1010| Are you my riuall? well, flye faire y’are best; The King’s exceeding merrie at the banquet, He makes the Bride blush with his merrie words, That run into her eares; ah he’s a wanton, Yet I dare trust her, had he twentie tongues, |1015| And euerie tongue a Stile of Maiestie. Now Widdow, let me tell thee in thine eare, I loue thee Widdow, by this ring; nay weare it.

_Mineu._ Ile come in no rings pardie, Ile take no golde.

_Sir Ada._ Harke in thine eare, take me, I am no golde.

|1020| _Enter_ Sir Vaughan _and_ Peter Flash.

_Sir Vau._ Master Peter Flash, I will grope about Sir Quintilian, for his terminations touching and considering you.

_Flash._ I thanke your Worship, for I haue as good a stomacke to your Worship as a man could wish.

|1025| _Sir Vau._ I hope in God a mightie, I shall fill your stomack Master Peter: What two vpon one Sentlemen; Mistris Miniuer, much good doo’t you Sir Adam.

_Sir quin._ Sir Vaughan, haue you din’d well Sir Vaughan?

_Sir Vau._ As good seere as would make any hungrie man (and a |1030| were in the vilest prison in the world) eate and hee had anie stomacke: One word Sir Quintilian in hugger mugger; heere is a Sentleman of yours, Master Peter Flash, is tesirous to haue his blew coate pul’d ouer his eares; and....

_Flash._ No, Sir, my petition runs thus, that your whorshippe |1035| would thrust mee out of doores, and that I may follow Sir Vaughan.

_Sir Vau._ I can tell you Master Flash, and you follow mee I goe verie fast, I thinke in my conscience, I am one of the lightest knights in England.

_Flash._ It’s no matter Sir, the Flashes haue euer bin knowne to |1040| be quicke and light enough.

_Sir quin._ Sir Vaughan, he shal follow you, he shall dog you good Sir Vaughan.

_Enter_ Horace _walking_.

_Sir Vau._ Why then Peter Flash I will set my foure markes a |1045| yeare, and a blew coate vpon you.

_Fla._ Godamercy to your worship, I hope you shall neuer repent for me.

_Sir Vau._ You beare the face of an honest man, for you blush passing well Peter, I will quench the flame out of your name, |1050| and you shall be christned Peter Salamander.

_Peter Flash._ The name’s too good for me, I thanke your worship.

_Sir Vau._ Are you come Master Horace, you sent mee the Coppie of your letters countenance, and I did write and read it; |1055| your wittes truelie haue done verie valliantlie: tis a good inditements, you ha put in enough for her ha you not?

_Hor._ According to my instructions.

_Sir Vau._ Tis passing well, I pray Master Horace walke a little beside your selfe, I will turne vpon you incontinent.

|1060| _Sir quin._ What Gentleman is this in the Mandilian, a soldyer?

_Sir Vau._ No, tho he has a very bad face for a souldier, yet he has as desperate a wit as euer any Scholler went to cuffes for; tis a Sentleman Poet, he has made rimes called Thalamimums, for M. Pride-groome, on vrd widdow.

|1065| _Sir qui._ Is this he? welcome Sir, your name? pray you walke not so statelie, but be acquainted with me boldlie; your name Sir?

_Hor._ Quintus, Horacius, Flaccus.

_Sir Quint._ Good Master Flappus welcome.

|1070| _He walkes vp and downe._

_Sir Vau._ Mistris Miniuer, one vrde in your corner heere; I desire you to breake my armes heere, and read this Paper, you shall feele my mindes and affections in it, at full and at large.

_Mini._ Ile receiue no Loue libels perdy, but by word a mouth.

|1075| _Sir Vaughan._ By Sesu tis no libell, for heere is my hand to it.

_Mini._ Ile ha no hand in it Sir Vaughan, Ile not deale with you.

_Sir Vau._ Why then widdow, Ile tell you by word a mouth my deuices.

_Mi._ Your deuices come not neere my mouth Sir Vaughan |1080| perdy, I was vpon a time in the way to marriage, but now I am turn’d a tother side, I ha sworne to leade a single and simple life.

_Sir Adam._ She has answer’d you Sir Vaughan.

_Sir Vau._ Tis true, but at wrong weapons Sir Adam; will you be an Asse Mistris Miniuers?

|1085| _Min._ If I be you shall not ride me.

_Sir Vaug._ A simple life! by Sesu tis the life of a foole, a simple life!

_Sir qui._ How now Sir Vaughan?

_Sir Vaugh._ My braines has a little fine quawme come vnder it, |1090| and therefore Sir Adam, and Sir Quintilian, and mistris Miniuer caps God bo’y.

_All._ Good Sir Vaughan.

_Sir Vaugh._ Master Horace, your inuentions doe her no good in the Vniuersalities; yet heere is two shillings for your wittes; |1095| nay by Sesu you shall take it if’t were more: yonder bald Adams, is put my nose from his ioynt; but Adam I will be euen to you: this is my cogitations, I will indite the Ladies & Miniuer caps to a dinner of Plumbes, and I shall desire you M. Horace, |1100| to speake or raile; you can raile I hope in God a mighty.

_Hor._ You meane to speake bitterlie.

_Sir Vaughan._ Right, to spitte bitterly vpon baldnes, or the thinnes of haire; you sall eate downe Plumbes to sweeten your mouth, and heere is a good Ansell to defend you: Peter Salamander |1105| follow me.

_Flash._ With hue and crie and you will Sir.

_Sir Vau._ Come M. Horace, I will goe pull out the Ladies.

_Ho._ And Ile set out my wits, Baldnes the Theame? My words shall flow hye in a siluer stream.

_Exeunt._

|1110| _Enter_ Tucca _brushing off the crumbes_.

_Tuc._ Wher’s my most costly and sumptuous Shorthose?

_Sir Quint._ Is the King risen from table Captaine Tucca?

_Tuc._ How? risen? no my noble Quintilian, kings are greater men then we Knights and Caualliers, and therefore must eate |1115| more then lesser persons; Godamercy good Diues for these crummes: how now? has not Frier Tucke din’d yet? he falles so hard to that Oyster-pye yonder.

_Sir quin._ Oyster-pye Captaine? ha, ha, he loues her, and I loue her and feare both shall goe without her.

|1120| _Tuc._ Dost loue her, my finest and first part of the Mirrour of Knighthood? hange her she lookes like a bottle of ale, when the corke flyes out and the Ale fomes at mouth, shee lookes my good button-breech like the signe of Capricorne, or like Tiborne when it is couer’d with snow.

|1125| _Sir quin._ All’s one for that, she has a vizard in a bagge, will make her looke like an Angell; I wod I had her, vpon condition, I gaue thee this chaine manlie Tucca.

_Tuc._ I? saist thou so Friskin? I haue her ath hip for some causes, I can sound her, she’ll come at my becke.

|1130| _Sir quin._ Wod I could sound her too Noble commaunder.

_Tuc._ Thou shalt doo’t; that Lady ath Lake is thine Sir Tristram, lend mee thy chaine, doe, lend it, Ile make her take it as a token, Ile lincke her vnto thee; and thou shalt weare her gloue in thy Worshipfull hatte like to a leather brooch; Nay and thou |1135| mistrusts thy coller, be tyed in’t still.

_Sir quin._ Mistrust Captaine? no, heere tis, giue it her if she’ll take it, or weare it thy selfe, if shee’ll take mee, Ile watch him well enough too.

_Tuc._ No more, Ile shoote away yonder Prickshaft, and then |1140| belabour her, and flye you after yonder Cucko: dost heere me my noble Gold-finch?----

_Sir qui._ No more.

_Tuc._ How dost thou my smug Belimperia? how dost thou? hands off my little bald Derricke, hands off: harke hether |1145| Susanna, beware a these two wicked Elders, shall I speake well or ill of thee?

_Min._ Nay, eene as you please Captaine, it shal be at your choise.

_Tuc._ Why well said, my nimble Short-hose.

|1150| _Sir quin._ I heare her, I heare her.

_Tuc._ Art angry father time? art angrie because I tooke mother-Winter aside? Ile holde my life thou art strucke with Cupids Birde-bolt, my little prickshaft, art? dost loue that mother Mumble-crust, dost thou? dost long for that whim-wham?

|1155| _Sir Ada._ Wod I were as sure to lye with her, as to loue her.

_Tuc._ Haue I found thee my learned Dunce, haue I found thee? If I might ha my wil, thou shouldst not put thy spoone into that bumble-broth (for indeede Ide taste her my selfe) no thou shouldst not; yet if her beautie blinde thee, she’s thine, I can doo’t, thou |1160| heardst her say eene now, it should bee at my choice.

_Sir Ada._ She did so, worke the match and Ile bestow--

_Tuc._ Not a silke point vpon mee, little Adam shee shall bee thy Eeue, for lesse then an Apple; but send, bee wise, send her some token, shee’s greedie, shee shall take it, doe, send, thou |1165| shalt sticke in her (Prickeshaft) but send.

_Sir Adam._ Heer’s a purse of golde, thinke you that wil be accepted?

_Tuc._ Goe to, it shall bee accepted, and twere but siluer, when that Flea-bitten Short-hose steppes hence: vanish too, and let |1170| mee alone with my Grannam in Gutter-Lane there, and this purse of golde doe, let me alone.

_Sir quint._ The King, gods Lord, I doe forget the King; Widdow, thinke on my wordes, I must be gone To waite his rising, Ile returne anone.

|1175| _Sir Ad._ Stay Sir Quintilian, Ile be a waiter too.

_Sir quinti._ Widdow wee’ll trust that Captaine there with you.

_Exeunt._

_Tuc._ Now, now, mother Bunch how dost thou? what dost frowne Queene Gwyniuer? dost wrinckle? what made these paire |1180| of Shittle-cockes heere? what doe they fumble for? Ile ha none of these Kites fluttering about thy carkas, for thou shalt bee my West Indyes, and none but trim Tucca shall discouer thee.

_Min._ Discouer me? discouer what thou canst of me.

_Tuc._ What I can? thou knowst what I can discouer, but I will |1185| not lay thee open to the world.

_Min._ Lay me open to the world?

_Tuc._ No I will not my moldie decay’d Charing-crosse, I will not.

_Mi._ Hang thee patch-pannell, I am none a thy Charing-crosse: I scorne to be Crosse to such a scab as thou makst thy selfe.

|1190| _Tuc._ No, tis thou makst me so, my Long Meg a Westminster, thou breedst a scab, thou--

_Min._ I? dam thee filthie Captaine, dam thy selfe.

_Tuc._ My little deuill a Dow-gate, Ile dam thee, (thou knowst my meaning) Ile dam thee vp; my wide mouth at Bishops-gate.

|1195| _Min._ Wod I might once come to that damming.

_Tuc._ Why thou shalt, my sweet dame Annis a cleere thou shalt, for Ile drowne my selfe in thee; I, for thy loue, Ile sinke, I, for thee.

_Min._ So thou wilt I warrant, in thy abhominable sinnes; Lord, |1200| Lord, howe many filthy wordes hast thou to answere for.

_Tuc._ Name one Madge-owlet, name one, Ile answer for none; my words shall be foorth comming at all times, & shall answer for them selues; my nimble Cat-a-mountaine: they shall Sislie Bum-trincket, for Ile giue thee none but Suger-candie wordes, I |1205| will not Pusse: goody Tripe-wife, I will not.

_Min._ Why dost call mee such horrible vngodlie names then?

_Tuc._ Ile name thee no more Mother Red-cap vpon paine of death, if thou wilt Grimalkin, Maggot-a-pye I will not.

_Min._ Wod thou shouldst wel know, I am no Maggot, but a |1210| meere Gentlewoman borne.

_Tu._ I know thou art a Gentle, and Ile nibble at thee, thou shalt be my Cap-a-maintenance, & Ile carrie my naked sword before thee, my reuerend Ladie Lettice-cap.

_Mi._ Thou shalt carry no naked swords before me to fright me, |1215| thou--

_Tuc._ Go too, let not thy tongue play so hard at hot-cockles; for, Gammer Gurton, I meane to bee thy needle, I loue thee, I loue thee, because thy teeth stand like the Arches vnder London Bridge, for thou’t not turne Satyre & bite thy husband; No, come my little |1220| Cub, doe not scorne mee because I goe in Stag, in Buffe, heer’s veluet too; thou seest I am worth thus much in bare veluet.

_Min._ I scorne thee not, not I.

_Tuc._ I know thou dost not, thou shat see that I could march with two or three hundred linkes before me, looke here, what? |1225| I could shew golde too, if that would tempt thee, but I will not make my selfe a Gold-smithes stall I; I scorne to goe chain’d my Ladie ath Hospitall, I doe; yet I will and must bee chain’d to thee.

_Min._ To mee? why Master Captaine, you know that I haue my |1230| choise of three or foure payre of Knights, and therefore haue small reason to flye out I know not how in a man of war.

_Tuc._ A man a warre? come thou knowst not what a worshipfull focation tis to be a Captaines wife: three or four payre of Knights? why dost heare Ioane-a-bedlam, Ile enter into bond to |1235| be dub’d by what day thou wilt, when the next action is layde vpon me, thou shalt be Ladified.

_Min._ You know I am offered that by halfe a dozen.

_Tuc._ Thou shalt little Miniuer, thou shalt, Ile ha this frock turn’d into a foote-cloth; and thou shalt be carted, drawne I |1240| meane, Coacht, Coacht, thou shalt ryde Iigga-Iogge; a Hood shall flap vp and downe heere, and this shipskin-cap shall be put off.

_Mini._ Nay perdie, Ile put off my cap for no mans pleasure.

_Tuc._ Wut thou be proude little Lucifer? well, thou shalt goe |1245| how thou wilt Maide-marian; come, busse thy little Anthony now, now, my cleane Cleopatria; so, so, goe thy waies Alexis secrets, th’ast a breath as sweet as the Rose, that growes by the Beare-garden, as sweete as the proud’st heade a Garlicke in England: come, wut march in, to the Gentle folkes?

|1250| _Mini._ Nay trulie Captaine you shall be my leader.

_Tuc._ I say Mary Ambree, thou shalt march formost, Because Ile marke how broad th’art in the heeles.

_Mini._ Perdie, I will be set ath last for this time.

_Tuc._ Why then come, we’ll walke arme in arme, |1255| As tho we were leading one another to Newgate.

_Enter_ Blunt, Crispinus, _and_ Demetrius, _with papers, laughing._

_Cri._ Mine’s of a fashion, cut out quite from yours.

_Dem._ Mine has the sharpest tooth, yonder he is.

_Blu._ Captaine Tucca.

_All hold vp papers._

|1260| _Tuc._ How now? I cannot stand to read supplications now.

_Cris._ They’re bitter Epigrams compos’d on you By Horace.

_Dem._ And disperst amongst the gallants In seuerall coppies, by Asinius Bubo.

|1265| _Tuc._ By that liue Eele? read, _Lege Legito_, read thou Iacke.

_Blu._ _Tucca’s growne monstrous, how? rich? that I feare, He’s to be seene for money euery where._

_Tuc._ Why true, shall not I get in my debts, nay and the roague write no better I care not, farewell blacke Iacke farewell.

|1270| _Cri._ But Captaine heer’s a nettle.

_Tuc._ Sting me, doe.

_Cri._ _Tucca’s exceeding tall and yet not hye, He fights with skill, but does most vilye lye._

_Tuc._ Right, for heere I lye now, open, open, to make my |1275| aduersarie come on; and then Sir, heere am I in’s bosome: nay and this be the worst, I shal hug the poore honest face-maker, Ile loue the little Atheist, when he writes after my commendation, another whip? come yerke me.

_Dem._ _Tucca will bite, how? growne Satiricall, |1280| No, he bites tables, for he feedes on all._

_Tuc._ The whoreson clouen-foote deuill in mans apparell lyes, There stood aboue forty dishes before me to day, That I nere toucht, because they were empty.

_Min._ I am witnes young Gentlemen to that.