Car. ’Twere a morris-dance worth the seeing.
Ast. But the old fox is so crafty, we shall hardly hunt him out of his den.
Mat. To that train I ha’ given fire already; and the hook to draw him hither, is to see certain pieces of lawn, which I told him I have to sell, and indeed have such; fetch them down, Pacheco.
Orl. Yes, sir, I’m your water-spaniel, and will fetch any thing—but I’ll fetch one dish of meat anon shall turn your stomach, and that’s a constable. [Aside and exit.
Enter Bots ushering in Mistress Horseleech.
Ast., Ber., Fon. How now? how now?
Car. What gally-foist[294] is this?
Lod. Peace, two dishes of stewed prunes,[295] a bawd and a pander. My worthy lieutenant Bots; why, now I see thou’rt a man of thy word, welcome.—Welcome Mistress Horseleech: pray, gentlemen, salute this reverend matron.
Mis. H. Thanks to all your worships.
Lod. I bade a drawer send in wine, too: did none come along with thee, grannam, but the lieutenant?