La. Via. [Exit.
Tho. My Father's mad now,
And ten to one will disinherit me:
I'le put him to his plunge, and yet be merry.
What Ribabald?
Enter Hylas and Sam.
Hyl. Don Thomasio.
De bene venew.
Tho. I do embrace your body:
How do'st thou Sam?
Sam. The same Sam still: your friend Sir.
Tho. And how is't bouncing boyes?
Hyl. Thou art not alter'd,
They said thou wert all Monsieur.
Tho. O believe it,
I am much alter'd, much another way:
The civil'st Gentleman in all your Country:
Do not ye see me alter'd? yea, and nay Gentlemen,
A much converted man: where's the best wine boys?
Hyl. A sound Convertite.