[Exeunt.

Finis Actus Quarti.

Actvs Qvinti.

SCENA PRIMA.

    Enter Momford, Furnifall, Tales, Kingcob, Rudesbie, Goosecap,
    Foulweather, Eugenia, Hippolyta, Penelope, Winnifred.

Mom.  Where is sir Gyles Goose-cappe here?

Goos.  Here my Lord.

Mom.  Come forward, Knight; t’is you that the Ladies admire at working, a mine honour.

Goos.  A little at once my Lorde for idlenes sake.

Fur.  Sir Cut, I say, to her Captaine.

Penel.  Come good servant let’s see what you worke.

Goos.  Why looke you, Mistris, I am makeing a fine dry sea, full of fish, playing in the bottome, and here ile let in the water so lively, that you shall heare it rore.

Eug.  Not heare it, sir Gyles?

Goos.  Yes in sooth, Madam, with your eyes.

Tal.  I, Lady; for when a thing is done so exceedingly to the life, as my Knightly cosen does it, the eye oftentimes takes so strong a heede of it, that it cannot containe it alone, and therefore the eare seemes to take part with it.

Hip.  That’s a verie good reason, my Lord.

Mom.  What a jest it is, to heare how seriouslie he strives to make his foolish kinsmans answeres wise ones?

Pene.  What shall this be, servant?

Goos.  This shall be a great Whale, Mistris, at all his bignesse spouting huge Hils of salt-water afore him, like a little water squirt, but you shall not neede to feare him Mistris, for he shal be silke, and gould, he shall doe you noe harme, and he be nere so lively.

Pene.  Thanke you, good servant.

Tal.  Doe not thinke, Lady, but he had neede tell you this a forehand:  for, a mine honour, he wrought me the monster Caucasus so lively, that at the first sight I started at it.

Mom.  The monster Caucasus? my Lord, Caucasus is a Mountaine; Cacus you meane.

Tal. Cacus indeede, my Lord, crie you mercie.

Goos.  Heere ile take out your eye, and you wil Mistris.

Pene.  No by my faith, Servant, t’is better in.

Goos.  Why, Ladie, Ile but take it out in jest, in earnest.

Pene.  No, something else there, good servant.

Goos.  Why then here shall be a Camell, and he shall have hornes, and he shall looke for all the World like a maide without a husband.

Hip.  O bitter sir Giles.

Ta.  Nay he has a drie wit, Ladie, I can tell ye.

Pene.  He bobd me there indeed, my Lord.

Fur.  Marry him, sweet Lady, to answere his bitter bob.

King.  So she maie answere him with hornes indeed.