Cun. I dare sware thou art,
'Tis nothing but Sir Gregories circumvention,
His envious spite, when thou'rt at Paddington,
He meets the gifts at Pancridge.
Clow. Ah false Knight?
False both to honor, and the Law of Arms?
Cun. What wilt thou say if I be reveng'd for thee?
Thou sit as Witness?
Clow. I should laugh in state then.
Cun. I'll fob him, here's my hand.
Clow. I shall be as glad as any Man alive, to see him well fob'd, Sir; but now you talk of fobbing, I wonder the Lady sends not for me according to promise? I ha' kept out o' Town these two dayes, a purpose to be sent for; I am almost starv'd with walking.
Cun. Walking gets men a stomach.
Clow. 'Tis most true, Sir, I may speak it by experience, for I ha' got a stomach six times, and lost it agen, as often as a traveller from Chelsy shall lose the sight of Pauls, and get it agen.
Cun. Go to her, Man.
Clow. Not for a Million, enfringe my oath? there's a toy call'd a Vow, has past between us, a poor trifle, Sir; Pray do me the part and office of a Gentleman, if you chance to meet a Footman by the way, in Orange tawny ribbands, running before an empty Coach, with a Buzard i'th' Poop on't, direct him and his horses toward the new River by Islington, there they shall have me looking upon the Pipes, and whistling.