Sir Gr. I promise you, not a house-Rabbit, Sir.
Old K. No sucker on 'em all.
Sir Gr. What a thing's that?
They're pretty fools I warrant, when they'r tame
As a man can lay his lips [to].
Old K. How were you bred, Sir?
Did you never make a fool of a Tenants daughter?
Sir Gr. Never i'faith, they ha' made some fools for me,
And brought 'em many a time under their aprons.
Old [K] They could not shew you the way plainlier, I think,
To make a fool again.
Sir Gr. There's fools enough, Sir,
'Less they were wiser.
Old K. This is wondrous rare,
Come you to London with a Maiden-head, Knight?
A Gentleman of your rank ride with a Cloak-bag?
Never an Hostess by the way to leave it with?
Nor Tapsters Sister? nor head-Ostlers Wife?
What no body?
Sir Gr. Well mock'd old Wit-monger,
I keep it for your Neece.
Old K. Do not say so for shame, she'll laugh at thee,
A wife ne'er looks for't, 'tis a batchelors penny,
He may giv't to a begger-wench, i'th' progress time,
And ne'er be call'd to account for't. [Ex.