Adol. I am hoarse.
Ber. That's no new Thing to Cocks; but if you can't crow like an old Cock, crow like a Cockeril.
Adol. Let Germany flourish thrice.
Ber. You ought to have said so thrice. I am a-dry; let us drink somewhere, I'll make an end of the Song there.
Adol. I won't stand upon that, if the Company likes it.
Arb. That will be the best, the Cock will crow clearer when his Throat is gargled.
* * * * *
_3. The Play of striking a Ball through an Iron Ring.
GASPAR, ERASMUS.
Gas._ Come, let's begin, Marcolphus shall come in, in the Losers
Place.