Host. Yes marry will I Sir,
And pray that not a flea, or a chink vex you.
[Exit Host. and Theo.
Inc. You forget supper: Gossip: move for supper.
Die. 'Tis strange what love to a beast may do, his Horse
Threw him into this fit.
Inc. You shall excuse me
It was his being in cuerpo, meerly caus'd it.
Die. Do you think so Sir?
Inc. Most unlucky cuerpo.
Naught else, he looks as he would eat Partridge,
This guest; ha' you 'em ready in the house?
And a fine piece of Kid now? and fresh garlick
Enter Hostess.
With Sardinia and Zant Oil? how now?
Has he bespoke, what will he have a brace,
Or but one Partridge, or a short leg'd Hen,
Daintyly carbonado'd?