Iack.  Like enough; he travaild for nothing else.

Will.  But what qualities haunt Sir Gyles Goosecappe now Sir.

Bul.  Sir Gyles Goosecap has always a deathes head (as it were) in his mouth, for his onely one reason for everything is, because we are all mortall; and therefore he is generally cald the mortall Knight; then hath he another pretty phrase too, and that is, he will “tickle the vanity ant” still in everything; and this is your Summa totalis of both their virtues.

Ia.  Tis enough, tis enough, as long as they have land enough, but now muster your third person afore us I beseech you.

Bul.  The third person and second Knight, blunt Sir Cutt Rudesby, is indeed blunt at a sharpe wit, and sharpe at a blunt wit; a good bustling Gallant, talkes well at Rovers; he is two parts souldier; as slovenlie as a Switzer, and somewhat like one in face too; for he weares a bush beard, will dead a Cannan shot better then a wool-packe:  he will come into the presence like yor Frenchman in foule bootes, and dares eat Garlike as a preparative to his Courtship.  You shall know more of him hereafter; but, good wags, let me winne you now for the Geographicall parts of your Ladies in requitall.

Will.  That you shall Sir, and the Hydrographicall too and you will; first my Lady the widowe, and Countes Eugenia, is in earnest, a most worthy Lady, and indeede can doe more than a thousand other Ladies can doe I can tell you.

Bul.  What’s that I pray thee?

Ia.  Mary Sir, he meanes she can doe more than sleepe, and eate, and drinke; and play at noddy[3], and helpe to make hir selfe ready[4].

Bul.  Can she so?

Will.  She is the best scholler of any woman but one[5] in England; she is wise and vertuous.

Ia.  Nay she has one strange quality for a woman besides, tho these be strange enough that he has rekoned.

Bul.  For Gods sake whats that?

Ia.  She can love reasonable constantly, for she loved her husband only, almost a whole yeere together.

Bul.  Thats strange indeed, but what is your faire Lady Sir?

Ia.  My Lady Sir, the Lady Hippolita—­

Will.  That is as chast as ever was Hippolitus.

Ia. (True, my prety Parenthesis) is halfe a maid, halfe a wife, and halfe a widdow.

Bul.  Strange tale to tell; how canst thou make this good, my good Assumpsit.