Mul. I have been a traveller too sir,
That have shewed strange beasts in Christendome,
And got money by them, but I find the trade to decay.
Your Camelion, or East-Indian hedg-hog
Gets very little mony, and your Elephant devours
So much bread, brings in so little profit,
His keeper were better every morning
Cram 15 Taylors with white manchet:
I would have some new spectacle,
And one that might be more attractive.
Foro. Let me see, were you ever in Spain?
Mule. Not yet Sir.
Foro. I would have you go to Madrill, and against some great festivall, when the court lies there, provide a great and spacious Eng[li]sh Oxe, and rost him whole, with a pudding in's bely; that would be the eighth wonder of the world in those parts I assure you.
Mule. A rare project without question.
Foro. Goe beyond all their garlike olle padridoes, though you sod one in Garguentuas couldron, bring in more money, then all the monsters of Affrick.
Host. Good Sir do your best for him; he's of my acquaintance, and one if ye knew him—
Foro. What is he?
Host. He was once a man of infinite letters.
Foro. A Scholar?