Hans. Heere, M. Doctor; I cannot feele, I cannot feele.
Doct. By garr, you be de brave, merry man; de fine proper man; de very fine, brave, little, propta sweet Jack man; by garr, me loov'a you, me honour you, me kisse'a your foote.
Hans. You shall not stoope so lowe, good M. Doctor; kisse higher if it please you.
Doct. In my trot me honour you.
Hans. I, but you give me nothing, sir.
Doct. No? by garr, me giv'a de high commendation passe all de gold, precious pearle in de vorld.
Hans. I, sir, passe by it, you meane so, sir. Well, I shall have your good word, I see, M. Doctor.
Doct. I sayt.
Hans. But not a rag of money.
Doct. No, by my trot, no point money; me give de beggra de money, no point de brave man.