Mi. You promis'd me a horse too, and a lackquay.
Lur. Thou shalt have horses six, and a postilion.
Mi. That will be stately sweet heart, a postilion.
Lu. Nay, we'll be in fashion; he shall ride before us
In winter, with as much dirt would dampe a musket;
The inside of our coach shall be of scarlet.
Mi. That will be dear.
Lu. There is a dye projecting
Will make it cheap, wench, come thou shalt have any thing.
Mi. Where is this chest, I long, sweet, to behold
Our Indies.
Boy. Mistress lets melt it first, and then 'tis fit
You should dispose it, then 'tis safe from danger.
Mi. I'll be a loving Mistress to my boy too.
Now fetch it in and lets rejoyce upon't.
Boy. Hold your light Mistress, we may see to enter.