PYE. Aye, he knows it, when he see’s me: I pray you, have you forgot me?
SERVANT. Aye, by my troth, sir. Pray come near; I’ll in and tell him of you: please you to walk here in the Gallery till he comes.
PYE. We will attend his worship.—Worship, I think, for so much the Posts at his door should signify, and the fair coming in, and the wicket; else I neither knew him nor his worship, but ’tis happiness he is within doors, what so ere he be; if he be not too much a formal Citizen, he may do me good.— Sergeant and Yeoman, how do you like this house? ist not most wholesomely plotted?
RAVEN.
Troth, prisoner, an exceeding fine house.
PYE. Yet I wonder how he should forget me,—for he ne’er knew me.—No matter, what is forgot in you will be remembered in your Master. A pretty comfortable room this, me thinks: You have no such rooms in prison now?
PUT.
Oh, dog-holes toote.
PYE. Dog-holes, indeed. I can tell you, I have great hope to have my Chamber here shortly, nay, and diet too, for he’s the most free-heartedst Gentleman where he takes: you would little think it! and what a fine Gallery were here for me to walk and study, and make verses.
PUT.
O, it stands very pleasantly for a Scholar.
[Enter Gentleman.]
PYE. Look what maps, and pictures, and devices, and things: neatly, delicately—mass, here he comes: he should be a Gentleman; I like his Beard well.—All happiness to your worship.