Eug.  See what a pretty worke he weares in his boote-hose.

Hip.  Did you worke them your selfe, sir Gyles, or buy them?

Goos.  I bought am for nothing, Madam, in th’exchange.

Eug.  Bought am for nothing?

Tal.  Indeed, Madam, in th’exchange they so honour him for his worke, that they will take nothing for any thing he buies on am; but wheres the rich night-cap you wroght, cosen? if it had not bin too little for you, it was the best peece of worke, that ever I sawe.

Goos.  Why, my Lord, t’was bigge enough; when I wrought it, for I wore pantables then you knowe.

Tal.  Indeed the warmer a man keepes his feete the lesse he needs weare uppon his head.

Eug.  You speake for your kinsman the best that ever I heard, my Lord.

Goos.  But I beleeve, Madam, my Lord my cosen has not told you all my good parts.

Ta.  I told him so I warrant you, cosen.

Hip.  What doe you thinke hee left out sir Gyles?

Goos.  Marry, Madam, I can take Tobacco now, and I have bought glow-wormes to kindle it withall, better then all the burning glasses ith World.

Eug.  Glowe-wormes, sir Giles? will they make it burne?

Goos.  O good Madam, I feed am with nothing but fire, a purpose, Ile besworne they eat me five Faggots a-weeke in Charcoale.

Tal.  Nay he has the strangest devices, Ladies, that ever you heard, I warrent ye.

Fur.  That’s a strange device indeed, my Lord.

Hip.  But your sowing, sir Gyles, is a most gentlewoman-like quality, I assure you.

Pene.  O farr away, for now, servant, you neede never marry, you are both husband, and wife your selfe.

Goos.  Nay indeed, mistris, I wood faine marry for all that, and ile tell you my reason, if you will.

Pene.  Let’s here it good servant.

Goos.  Why, Madam, we have a great match at football towards, married men against batchellers, and the married men be all my friends, so I wood faine marry to take the married mens parts in truth.

Hip.  The best reason for marriage that ever I heard sir Gyles.

Goos.  I pray will you keepe my worke a little, Mistris; I must needes straine a little courtesie in truth. [Exit Sir Gyles.

Hip.  Gods my life, I thought he was a little to blame.

Rud.  Come, come, you he[a]re not me, dame.

Pur.  Well said, sir Cut:  to her now; we shall heare fresh courting.

Hip.  Alas, sir Cut, you are not worth the hearing, every body saies you cannot love, howsoever you talke on’t.

Rud.  Not love, dame? slidd what argument woodst have of my love, tro? lett me looke as redde as Scarlet a fore I see thee, and when thou comst in sight if the sunne of thy beauty, doe not white me like a shippards holland, I am a Iewe to my Creator.