Shad. I dare not say, as de Irishman my countryman say, taste de goodness of de fruit: no, sayt, ’tis farie teere, mistriss, by Saint Patrick’s hand ’tis teere Tamasco apple.
Agrip. The fairest fruit that ever I beheld.
Damasco apples, wherefore are they good?
Longa. What is your price of half a score of these?
Both. Half a score, half a score? dat is doos many, mester.[399]
Longa. Ay, ay, ten, half a score, that’s five and five.
Andel. Feeve and feeve? By my trat and as Creeze save me la, I cannot tell wat be de price of feeve and feeve, but ’tis tree crown for one peepin, dat is de preez if you take ’em.
Shad. Ay fat, ’tis no less for Tamasco.
Agrip. Three crowns for one? what wondrous virtues have they?
Shad. O, ’tis feene Tamasco apple, and shall make you a great teal wise, and make you no fool, and make feene memory.
Andel. And make dis fash be more fair and amiable, and make dis eyes look always lovely, and make all de court and country burn in desire to kiss di none sweet countenance.