Fan. What, wenyst thou that I were so folysshe and so fonde?
Fol. In faythe, ellys is there none in all Englonde.
Fan. Yet for my fansy sake, I say,
Let me haue thy dogge, what soeuer I pay.
Fol. Thou shalte haue my purse, and I wyll haue thyne.
Fan. By my trouth, there is myne.
Fol. Nowe, by my trouth, man, take, there is myne;[814]
And I beshrowe hym that hath the worse.
Fan. Torde, I say, what haue I do?
Here is nothynge but the bockyll of a sho, 1120