Fit. Nay, now, you ly: Vnder your fauour, friend, for, I’ll not quarrell. I look’d o’ your feet, afore, you cannot coozen mee, Your ſhoo’s not clouen, Sir, you are whole hoof’d. He viewes his feete againe. Pvg. Sir, that’s a popular error, deceiues many: 30 But I am that, I tell you.
Fit. What’s your name?
Pvg. My name is Diuell, Sr.
Fit. Sai’ſt thou true.
Pvg. in-deed, Sr.
Fit. ’Slid! there’s ſome omen i’ this! what countryman?
Pvg. Of Derby-ſhire, Sr. about the Peake.
Fit. That Hole Belong’d to your Anceſtors?
Pvg. Yes, Diuells arſe, Sr. 35
Fit. I’ll entertaine him for the name ſake. Ha? And turne away my tother man? and ſaue Foure pound a yeere by that? there’s lucke, and thrift too! The very Diuell may come, heereafter, as well. Friend, I receiue you: but (withall) I acquaint you, 40 Aforehand, if yo’ offend mee, I muſt beat you. It is a kinde of exerciſe, I vſe. And cannot be without.