Herod. Who, I? I rail at one of Ferrara—a Ferrarese?[141] No. Didst thou ride?
Herc. No.
Herod. Hast thou worn socks?
Herc. No. 220
Herod. Then blessed be the most happy gravel betwixt thy toes! I do prophesy thy tyrannising itch shall be honourable, and thy right worshipful louse shall appear in full presence. Art thou an officer to the prince?[142]
Herc. I am; what o’ that?
Herod. My cap! what officer?
Herc. Yeoman of his bottles. What to that?
Herod. My lip! thy name, good yeoman of the bottles? 230
Herc. Faunus.