Die. Here Sir.
Another Fayerie.
Host. Bless me.
Phi. From what sweet Hostess?
Are you afraid o' your guests?
Host. From Angels, Sir,
I think there's none but such come here to night,
My house had never so good luck afore
For brave, fine guests; and yet the ill luck on't is
I cannot bid you welcome.
Host. Not lodge you Sir.
Phi. Not, Hostess?
Host. No in troth Sir, I do tell you
Because you may provide in time: my beds
Are both tane up by a young Cavalier
That will and must be private.
Die. He has paid Sir
For all our Chambers.
Host. Which is one: and Beds
Which I already ha told you are two: But Sir,
So sweet a creature, I am very sorry
I cannot lodge you by him; you look so like him
Yo' are both the loveliest pieces.