Rog. I am but a Batchelor of Art, Sir; and I have the mending of all under this roof, from my Lady on her down-bed, to the maid in the Pease-straw.
Wel. A Cobler, Sir?
Roger. No Sir, I inculcate Divine Service within these Walls.
Wel. But the Inhabitants of this house do often imploy you on errands without any scruple of Conscience.
Rog. Yes, I do take the air many mornings on foot, three or four miles for eggs: but why move you that?
Wel. To know whether it might become your function to bid my man to neglect his horse a little to attend on me.
Roger. Most properly Sir.
Wel. I pray you doe so then: the whilst I will attend your Lady. You direct all this house in the true way?
Roger. I doe Sir.
Wel. And this door I hope conducts to your Lady?