DAUGHTER.
You never saw him dance?
IAILOR.
No.
DAUGHTER.
I have often.
He daunces very finely, very comely,
And for a Iigge, come cut and long taile to him,
He turnes ye like a Top.
IAILOR.
That’s fine, indeede.
DAUGHTER.
Hee’l dance the Morris twenty mile an houre,
And that will founder the best hobby-horse
(If I have any skill) in all the parish,
And gallops to the turne of LIGHT A’ LOVE:
What thinke you of this horse?
IAILOR.
Having these vertues,
I thinke he might be broght to play at Tennis.
DAUGHTER.
Alas, that’s nothing.
IAILOR.
Can he write and reade too?
DAUGHTER.
A very faire hand, and casts himselfe th’accounts
Of all his hay and provender: That Hostler
Must rise betime that cozens him. You know
The Chestnut Mare the Duke has?
IAILOR.
Very well.