Cokes. Od’s my life! I am not allied to the sculler yet; he shall be Dauphin my boy. But my fiddle-stick does fiddle in and out too much: I pray thee speak to him on’t; tell him I would have him tarry in my sight more.
Leath. I pray you be content; you’ll have enough on him, sir.
Now, gentles, I take it, here is none of you so stupid,
But that you have heard of a little god of love call’d Cupid;
Who out of kindness to Leander, hearing he but saw her,
This present day and hour doth turn himself to a drawer.
And because he would have their first meeting to be merry,
He strikes Hero in love to him with a pint of sherry;
Which he tells her from amorous Leander is sent her,