Flu. You have abandoned the Court, I see, my lord, since the death of your mistress; well, she was a delicate piece—Beseech you, sweet, come let us serve under the colours of your acquaintance still for all that—Please you to meet here at the lodging of my coz, I shall bestow a banquet upon you.
Hip. I never can deserve this kindness, sir.
What may this lady be, whom you call coz?
Flu. Faith, sir, a poor gentlewoman, of passing good carriage; one that has some suits in law, and lies here in an attorney’s house.
Hip. Is she married?
Flu. Ha, as all your punks are, a captain’s wife, or so: never saw her before, my lord?
Hip. Never, trust me: a goodly creature!
Flu. By gad, when you know her as we do, you’ll swear she is the prettiest, kindest, sweetest, most bewitching honest ape under the pole. A skin, your satin is not more soft, nor lawn whiter.
Hip. Belike, then, she’s some sale courtesan.[163]
Flu. Troth, as all your best faces are, a good wench.
Hip. Great pity that she’s a good wench.