1 Hunt. Ho, rise, sluggards! so, so, ho! so, ho!
2 Hunt. So ho, ho! we come.
Clown. Morrow, iolly wood-men.
Omnes. Morrow, morrow.
Clown. Oh here's a Morning like a grey ey'd Wench, able to intice a man to leap out of his bed if he love hunting, had he as many cornes on his toes as there are Cuckolds in the City.
1 Hunt. And that's enough in conscience to keepe men from going, were his Boots as wide as the black Iacks[150] or Bombards tost by the Kings Guard.
2 Hunt. Are the swift Horses ready?
Clown. Yes, and better fed than taught; for one of 'em had like to have kickt my iigumbobs as I came by him.
2 Hunt. Where are the Dogges?
Clown. All coupled, as Theeves going to a Sessions, and are to be hang'd if they be found faulty.