Kin. What news with thee Sir Vaughan?
Sir Vau. Newes? God tis as vrse newes as I can desire to bring about mee: our vnhansome-fac’d Poet does play at bo-peepes with your Grace, and cryes all-hidde as boyes doe.
Officers. Stand by, roome there, backe, roome for the Poet.
Sir Va. He’s reprehended and taken, by Sesu I reioyce very neere as much as if I had discouer’d a New-found Land, or the North and East Indies.
Enter Tucca, his boy after him with two pictures vnder his cloake, and a wreath of nettles: Horace and Bubo pul’d in by th’ hornes bound both like Satyres, Sir Adam following, Mistris Miniuer with him, wearing Tuccaes chaine.
Tuc. So, tug, tug, pull the mad Bull in by’th hornes: So, baite one at that stake my place-mouth yelpers, and one at that stake Gurnets-head.
King. What busie fellow’s this?
Tuc. Saue thee, my most gracious King a Harts saue thee, all hats and caps are thine, and therefore I vaile: for but to thee great Sultane Soliman, I scorne to be thus put off or to deliuer vp this sconce I wud.
Kin. Sir Vaughan, what’s this iolly Captaines name?
Sir Va. Has a very sufficient name, and is a man has done God and his Country as good and as hot Seruice (in conquering this vile Monster-Poet) as euer did S. George his horse-backe about the Dragon.