Wild. She may be thine when we are married.
Tob. Command, I'll carry you both in pomp;
And let my Lady go a foot a Law-catching,
And exercise her corns: where is she Master John?
Wild. 'Shat see her.
Tob. Shall we ring for her?
Wild. And drink her health?
Tob. Drink stifly for five hours.
Wild. We'll drink fifteen.
Tob. To night? we will ha twenty Torches then,
And through the streets drive on triumphantly;
Triumphantly we'll drive, by my Lad[y]es door,
As I am a Christian Coachman, I will rattle you
And Urine in her porch, and she shall fear me:
If you say more, I shall run mad outright,
I will drink Sack, and surfeit instantly;
I know not where I am now. [Exit.
Enter Lurcher.