Mast. These are his Cloaths.
But where's the Boy?
She-fool. The Boy is gone a Maying,
He'll bring me home a Cuckows Nest; do you hear, Master?
I put my Cloaths off, and I dizen'd him,
And pin'd a Plum in's forehead, and a feather,
And buss'd him twice, and bid him go seek his fortune;
He gave me this fine money, and fine Wine too,
And bid me sop; and gave me these trim Cloaths too,
And put 'em on.
Alph. Is this the Boy you would shew?
She-fool. I'll give you two pence, Master.
Alph. Am I fool'd of all sides?
I met a fool i'th' Woods, they said she dwelt here,
In a long pied Coat.
Mast. That was the very Boy, Sir.
She-f. I, I, I, I gave him leave to play, forsooth,
He'll come again to morrow, and bring peascods.
Mast. I'll bring your bones.
Alph. 'Pox o' your fools, and Bedlams,
'Plague o' your Owls and Apes.
Mast. 'Pray ye, Sir, be tamer,
We cannot help this presently, but we shall know;
I'll recompence your Care too.