Jen, Whither away! why, who do you take me to be?
Geo. Why, Jenkin, my man.
Jen. I was so once indeed, but now the case is altered.
Geo. I pray thee, as how?
Jen. Were not you a fortune-teller to-day?
Geo. Well, what of that?
Jen. So sure am I become a juggler. What will you say if I juggle your sweetheart?
Geo. Peace, prating losel! her jealous father
Doth wait o'er her with such suspicious eyes,
That, if a man but dally by her feet,
He thinks it straight a witch to charm his daughter.
Jen. Well, what will you give me, if I bring her hither?
Geo. A suit of green, and twenty crowns besides.