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.
_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.
_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.
_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?