MOUSE.
Your lands? Away, you are no master for me. Why, do you think that I am so mad to go seek my living in the lands amongst the stones, briars, and bushes, and tear my holiday-apparel? Not I, by your leave.
SEGASTO.
Why, I do not mean thou shalt.
MOUSE.
How then?
SEGASTO.
Why, thou shalt be my man, and wait upon me at the court.
MOUSE.
What’s that?
SEGASTO.
Where the king lies.
MOUSE.
What’s that same king, a man or woman?
SEGASTO.
A man as thou art.
MOUSE.
As I am? Hark you, sir, pray you, what kin is he to goodman King of our parish, the churchwarden?
SEGASTO.
No kin to him; he is the king of the whole land.