Tuc. I sweate for’t, but Tawsoone, holde thy tongue, Mon Dieu, if thou’t praise mee, doo’t behinde my backe: I am my weighty Soueraigne one of thy graines, thy valliant vassaile; aske not what I am, but read, turne ouer, vnclaspe thy Chronicles: there thou shalt finde Buffe-Ierkin; there read my points of war; I am one a thy Mandilian-Leaders; one that enters into thy royall bands for thee; Pantilius Tucca; one of thy Kingdomes chiefest quarrellers; one a thy most faithfull—fy—fy—fy——
Sir Vau. Drunkerds I holde my life.
Tuc. No whirligig, one of his faithfull fighters; thy drawer ô royall Tamor Cham.
Sir Vau. Goe too, I pray Captaine Tucca, giue vs all leaue to doe our busines before the King.
Tuc. With all my heart, shi, shi, shi shake that Beare-whelp when thou wut.
Sir Vau. Horace and Bubo, pray send an answere into his Masesties eares, why you goe thus in Ouids Morter-Morphesis and strange fashions of apparrell.
Tuc. Cur why?
Asini. My Lords, I was drawne into this beastly suite by head and shoulders onely for loue I bare to my Ningle.
Tuc. Speake Ningle, thy mouth’s next, belch out, belch, why——
Hor. I did it to retyre me from the world;
And turne my Muse into a Timonist,
Loathing the general Leprozie of Sinne,
Which like a plague runs through the soules of men:
I did it but to——