Young Lo. O Lord Sir, 'tis your modestie: more wine, give him a bigger glass; hug him my Captain, thou shalt be my chief mourner.
Capt. And this my pennon: Sir, a full carouse to you, and to my Lord of Land here.
Elder Lo. I feel a buzzing in my brains, pray God they bear this out, and I'le ne're trouble them so far again. Here's to you Sir.
Young Lo. To my dear Steward, down o' your knees you infidel, you Pagan; be drunk and penitent.
Savil. Forgive me Sir, and I'le be any thing.
Young Lo. Then be a Baud, I'le have thee a brave Baud.
Elder Lo. Sir, I must take my leave of you, my business is so urgent.
Young Lo. Let's have a bridling cast before you go. Fill's a new stoupe.
Elder Lo. I dare not Sir, by no means.
Young Lo. Have you any mind to a wench? I would fain gratifie you for the pains you took Sir.