Pet. A cruel rogue, now h'as [drawn pursue on] me,
He hunts me like a devil. No more singing;
Thou hast got a cold: come, let's go drink some Sack, boy.
Jun. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.
Pet. Why dost thou laugh?
What Mares nest hast thou found?
Jun. Ha, ha, ha.
I cannot laugh alone: Decius, Demetrius,
Curius, oh my sides, Ha, ha, ha,
The strangest jest.
Petil. Prethee no more.
Jun. The admirablest fooling.
Pet. Thou art the prettiest fellow.
Jun. Sirs.
Pet. Why Junius;
Prethee away, sweet Junius.
Jun. Let me sing then.