Dickis. Not sirra, then perforce thou shalt along,
This bridle helps me still at need,
And shall provide us of a steed. 
Now sirra, take your shape and be
Prepar’d to hurrie him and me.

Exit.

Now looke and tell mee wher’s the lad become.

Boy. The boy is vanisht, and I can see nothing in his stead But a white horse readie sadled and bridled.

Dickis. And thats the horse we must bestride,
On which both thou and I must ride,
Thou boy before and I behinde,
The earth we tread not, but the winde,
For we must progresse through the aire,
And I will bring thee to such fare
As thou ne’re saw’st, up and away,
For now no longer we can stay.

She catches him up, and turning round.

Boy. Help, help.

Exit.”

* * * * *

“Rob. What place is this? it looks like an old barne:  ile peep in at some cranny or other, and try if I can see what they are doing.  Such a bevy of beldames did I never behold; and cramming like so many Cormorants:  Marry choke you with a mischiefe.

Gooddy Dickison. Whoope, whurre, heres a sturre,
Never a cat, never a curre,
But that we must have this demurre.

Mal. A second course.

Mrs. Gen. Pull, and pull hard
For all that hath lately him prepar’d
For the great wedding feast.

Mall. As chiefe Of Doughtyes Surloine of rost Beefe.

All. Ha, ha, ha.

Meg. ’Tis come, ’tis come.

Mawd. Where hath it all this while beene?

Meg. Some
Delay hath kept it, now ’tis here,
For bottles next of wine and beere,
The Merchants cellers they shall pay for’t.

Mrs. Gener. Well, What sod or rost meat more, pray tell.

Good.  Dick. Pul for the Poultry, Foule, and Fish, For emptie shall not be a dish.

Robin. A pox take them, must only they feed upon hot meat, and I upon nothing but cold sallads.

Mrs. Gener. This meat is tedious, now some Farie, Fetch what belongs unto the Dairie,

Mal. Thats Butter, Milk, Whey, Curds and Cheese, Wee nothing by the bargaine leese.

All. Ha, ha, ha.

Goody Dickison. Boy, theres meat for you.

Boy. Thanke you.

Gooddy Dickis. And drinke too.

Meg. What Beast was by thee hither rid?

Mawd. A Badger nab.

Meg. And I bestrid A Porcupine that never prickt.

Mal. The dull sides of a Beare I kickt.  I know how you rid, Lady Nan.

Mrs. Gen. Ha, ha, ha, upon the knave my man.

Rob. A murrein take you, I am sure my hoofes payd for’t.

Boy. Meat lie there, for thou hast no taste, and drinke there, for thou hast no relish, for in neither of them is there either salt or savour.