Herc. Where did the herbs grow, my gallant, where did they grow?
Herod. Hard by in the city here.
Herc. No, I’ll none—I’ll eat no city herbs, no city roots; for here in the city a man shall have his excrements in his teeth again within four and twenty hours. I love no city sallets. Hast any canary? 42
Nym. How the poor snake wriggles with his sudden warmth!
Herod. Here, Faunus, a health as deep as a female.
[Herod drinks.
Herc. ’Fore Jove! we must be more endear’d.
Nym. How dost thou feel thyself now, Fawn?
Herc. Very womanly, with my fingers. I protest I think I shall love you. Are you married? I am truly taken with your virtues. Are you married? 50
Herod. Yes.