_Yo. Lo. _Come my brave man of war, trace out thy darling,
And you my learned Council, sit and turn boyes,
Kiss till the Cow come home, kiss close, kiss close knaves.
My Modern Poet, thou shalt kiss in couplets.
Enter with Wine.
Strike up you merry varlets, and leave your peeping,
This is no pay for Fidlers.
Capt. O my dear boy, thy Hercules, thy Captain
Makes thee his Hylas, his delight, his solace.
Love thy brave man of war, and let thy bounty
Clap him in Shamois: Let there be deducted out of our main potation
Five Marks in hatchments to adorn this thigh,
Crampt with this rest of peace, and I will fight
Thy battels.
Yo. Lo. Thou shalt hav't boy, and fly in Feather, Lead on a March you Michers.
Enter Savill.
Savill. O my head, O my heart, what a noyse and change is here! would I had been cold i'th' mouth before this day, and ne're have liv'd to see this dissolution. He that lives within a mile of this place, had as good sleep in the perpetual noyse of an Iron Mill. There's a dead Sea of drink i'th' Seller, in which goodly vessels lye wrackt, and in the middle of this deluge appear the tops of flagons and black jacks, like Churches drown'd i'th' marshes.
Yo. Lo. What, art thou come? My sweet Sir Amias welcome to Troy. Come thou shalt kiss my Helen, and court her in a dance.
Sav. Good Sir consider?
Yo. Lo. Shall we consider Gentlemen? How say you?