Calam. What wouldst thou say?
Cal. Let me see my notes. These are her lodgings; well.
Calam. Art thou an ass?
Cal. Peace! thou art a court wagtail,
[Looking on his instructions.
To interrupt me.
Fior. He has given it you.
Cal. And then say to the illustrious Fi-o-rin-da—
I have it. Which is she?
Calam. Why this; fop-doodle.
Cal. Leave chattering, bull-finch; you would put me out,
But 'twill not do.—Then, after you have made
Your three obeisances to her, kneel, and kiss
The skirt of her gown.—I am glad it is no worse.
Calam. This is sport unlook'd for.
Cal. Are you the princess?