Tib. Talk. And when wil our new master come.
D. Dough. Shortly I trow.
Tib. Talk. I would it were to morow: for till he resorte
Our mistresse being a Widow hath small comforte,
And I hearde our nourse speake of an husbande to day
Ready for our mistresse, a riche man and a gay,
And we shall go in our frenche hoodes euery day,
In our silke cassocks (I warrant you) freshe and gay,
In our tricke serdegews and billiments of golde,
Braue in our sutes of chaunge seuen double folde,