Tib. Knock off our shooes, and turn's to grass.
Cro. You are determined
Still to be stubborn then: it well becomes ye.
Tib. An humour Lady that contents a prisoner.
A sullen fit sometimes serves for a second course.
Jul. Ye may as well be kind,
And gain our favours; gain meat and drink,
And lodging to rest your bones.
Tib. My bones have bore me thus long,
And had their share of pains and recreations;
If they fail now, they are no fair companions.
Cro. Are ye thus harsh to all our Sex?
Mast. We cannot be merry without a Fidler,
Pray strike up your Tabors, Ladies.
Cro. The fools despise us.
Jul. We know ye are very hungry now.
Tib. Yes 'tis very wholsom, Ladies;
For we that have gross bodies, must be careful
Have ye no piercing air to stir our stomachs?
We are beholding to ye for our Ordinary.