Lod. Have you so? nay, then—
Cand. Now, gentlemen, is’t cambrics?
Bry. I predee now let me have de best waures.
Cand. What’s that he says, pray, gentlemen?
Lod. Marry, he says we are like to have the best wars.
Cand. The best wars? all are bad, yet wars do good,
And, like to surgeons, let sick kingdom’s blood.
Bry. Faat a devil pratest tow so? a pox on dee! I preddee, let me see some hollen, to make linen shirts, for fear my body be lousy.
Cand. Indeed, I understand no word he speaks.
Car. Marry, he says that at the siege in Holland
There was much bawdry used among the soldiers,
Though they were lousy.
Cand. It may be so, that likely; true, indeed,
In every garden, sir, does grow that weed.