Enter Shorthose with a bag.
Short. Rest you merry, Gentlemen.
Val. Not so merry as you suppose, Sir.
Short. Pray stay a while, and let me take a view of you, I may put my Spoon into the wrong Pottage-pot else.
Val. Why, wilt thou muster us?
Short. No, you are not he, you are a thought too handsome.
Lan. Who wouldst thou speak withal, why dost thou peep so?
Short. I am looking birds nests, I can find none in your bush beard, I would speak with you, black Gentleman.
Fran. With me, my friend?
Short. Yes sure, and the best friend, Sir, it seems you spake withal this twelve-month, Gentleman, there's money for you.