Phi. What train has he?
Die. None but himself.
Phi. And will no less than both beds
Serve him?
Host. H'as given me a Ducket for 'em.
Phi. Oh.
You give me reason Hostess: Is he handsome,
And young do you say?
Host. Oh Sir, the delicat'st flesh
And finest cloths withal, and such a horse,
With such a Saddle.
Phi. She's in love with all.
The horse and him, and Saddle, and cloths, good woman,
Thou justifiest thy Sex; lov'st all that's brave:
Enter Incubo.
Sure though I lye o'th' ground, I'll stay here now
And have a sight of him: you'll give me house-room,
Fire, and fresh meat, for money, gentle Hostess;
And make me a pallat?
Inc. Sir, she shall do reason....
I understood you had another Guest, Gossips,
Pray you let his Mule be lookt to, have good straw,
And store of bran: And Gossip, do you hear,
Let him not stay for supper: What good Fowl ha' you?
This Gentleman would eat a Pheasant.