Count. Very well: will your grace question him a little?
Duke. How old are you?
Laz. Full eight and twenty several Almanacks
Have been compiled, all for several years
Since first I drew this breath, four prentiships
Have I most truely served in this world:
And eight and twenty times hath Phœbus Car
Run out his yearly course since.
Duke. I understand you Sir.
Luci. How like an ignorant Poet he talks.
Duke. You are eight and twenty year[e] old? what time of the day doe you hold it to be?
Laz. About the time that mortals whet their knives
On thresholds, on their shooe sol[e]s, and on stairs,
New bread is grating, and the testy Cook
Hath much to doe now, now the Tables all.
Duk. 'Tis almost dinner time?
Laz. Your grace doth apprehend me very rightly.