Tuc. Wher’s my most costly and sumptuous Shorthose?
Sir Quint. Is the King risen from table Captaine Tucca?
Tuc. How? risen? no my noble Quintilian, kings are greater men then we Knights and Caualliers, and therefore must eate more then lesser persons; Godamercy good Diues for these crummes: how now? has not Frier Tucke din’d yet? he falles so hard to that Oyster-pye yonder.
Sir quin. Oyster-pye Captaine? ha, ha, he loues her, and I loue her and feare both shall goe without her.
Tuc. Dost loue her, my finest and first part of the Mirrour of Knighthood? hange her she lookes like a bottle of ale, when the corke flyes out and the Ale fomes at mouth, shee lookes my good button-breech like the signe of Capricorne, or like Tiborne when it is couer’d with snow.
Sir quin. All’s one for that, she has a vizard in a bagge, will make her looke like an Angell; I wod I had her, vpon condition, I gaue thee this chaine manlie Tucca.
Tuc. I? saist thou so Friskin? I haue her ath hip for some causes, I can sound her, she’ll come at my becke.
Sir quin. Wod I could sound her too Noble commaunder.
Tuc. Thou shalt doo’t; that Lady ath Lake is thine Sir Tristram, lend mee thy chaine, doe, lend it, Ile make her take it as a token, Ile lincke her vnto thee; and thou shalt weare her gloue in thy Worshipfull hatte like to a leather brooch; Nay and thou mistrusts thy coller, be tyed in’t still.
Sir quin. Mistrust Captaine? no, heere tis, giue it her if she’ll take it, or weare it thy selfe, if shee’ll take mee, Ile watch him well enough too.