[Enter Chamberlaine.]

CHAMB. 
Anon, anon.

Sir Raph. 
Call mine host Blague hither!

CHAMB. 
I will send one over to see if he be up; I think he be
scarce stirring yet.

Sir Raph. 
Why, knave, didst thou not tell me an hour ago, mine host
was up?

CHAMB. 
Aye, sir, my Master’s up.

Sir Raph. 
You knave, is a up, and is a not up?  Dost thou mock me?

CHAMB. 
Aye, sir, my M. is up; but I think M. Blague indeed be not
Stirring.

Sir Raph. 
Why, who’s thy Master? is not the Master of the house thy
Master?

CHAMB. 
Yes, sir; but M. Blague dwells over the way.

Sir Arthur. 
Is not this the George?  Before God, there’s some villany
in this.

CHAMB. 
Sfoot, our signs removed; this is strange!

[Exeunt.]

Scene II.  The George Inn.

[Enter Blague, trussing his points.]

Blague. 
Chamberlen, speak up to the new lodgings, bid Nell look well
to the baked meats.

[Enter Sir Arthur and Sir Raph.]

How now, my old Jenerts bauke my house, my castle? lie in
Waltham all night, and not under the Canopy of your host
Blague’s house?

Sir Arthur. 
Mine host, mine host, we lay all night at the George in
Waltham; but whether the George be your fee-simple or no,
tis a doubtful question:  look upon your sign.

Host. Body of Saint George, this is mine overthwart neighbour hath done this to seduce my blind customers.  I’ll tickle his Catastrophe for this; if I do not indite him at next assisses for Burglary, let me die of the yellows; for I see tis no boot in these days to serve the good Duke of Norfolk.  The villanous world is turned manger; one Jade deceives another, and your Ostler plays his part commonly for the fourth share.  Have we Comedies in hand, you whoreson, villanous male London Letcher?

Sir Arthur. 
Mine host, we have had the moylingst night of it that ever
we had in our lives.

Host.
Ist certain?

Sir Raph. 
We have been in the Forest all night almost.

Host.
S’foot, how did I miss you? hart, I was a stealing a Buck
there.

Sir Arthur. 
A plague on you; we were stayed for you.

Host. Were you, my noble Romans?  Why, you shall share; the venison is a footing.  Sine Cerere and Baccho friget Venus; That is, there’s a good breakfast provided for a marriage that’s in my house this morning.

Sir Arthur. 
A marriage, mine host?

Host.
A conjunction copulative; a gallant match between your
daughter and M. Raymond Mountchensey, young Juventus.