Blun. Wher’s this gallant? Morrow Gentlemen: what’s this deuise done yet Horace?
Hor. Gods so, what meane you to let this fellow dog you into my Chamber?
Blun. Oh, our honest Captayne, come, prethee let vs see.
Tuc. Why you bastards of nine whoores, the Muses, why doe you walk heere in this gorgeous gailery of gallant inuentions, with that whooreson poore lyme & hayre-rascall? why—
Cris. O peace good Tucca, we are all sworne friends.
Tuc. Sworne, that Iudas yonder that walkes in Rug, will dub you Knights ath Poste, if you serue vnder his band of oaths, the copper-fact rascal wil for a good supper out sweare twelue dozen of graund Iuryes.
Blun. A pox ont, not done yet, and bin about it three dayes?
Horr. By Iesu within this houre, saue you Captayne Tucca.
Tuc. Dam thee, thou thin bearded Hermaphrodite, dam thee, Ile saue my selfe for one I warrant thee, is this thy Tub Diogines?
Hor. Yes Captaine this is my poore lodging.