Plot. Prythee, what was't?
Cyph. To learn the tongues and mathematics.
Plot. Troth,
If I have tongue enough to say my prayers
I' th' phrase o' th' kingdom, I care not: otherwise,
I'm for no tongues but dried ones, such as will
Give a fine relish to my backrag;[187] and for mathematics,
I hate to travel by the map; methinks
'Tis riding post.
Cyph. I knew 'twould come to this.
Here be his comrades. [Aside.
Plot. What, my Fleet Street friends? [Exit Cypher.
SCENE IV.
Enter Bright and Newcut.
Bright. Save you, merchant Plotwell!
New. Master Plotwell, citizen and merchant, save you!
Bright. Is thy uncle
Gone the wish'd voyage?