Foul. How? O mon Dieu! how the villaine poultroune, dishonours his travaile! You Buffonly Mouchroun, are you so mere rude, and English to advise your Captaine?
Rud. Nay, I prethee Fouleweather, be not tempesteous with thy poore Lacquay.
Foul. Tempesteous, Sir Cutt? will your Frenchman, thinke you, suffer his Lacquay to advise him?
Goos. O God you must take heed Lacquy how you advise your Captaine; your French lacquay would not have done it.
Foul. He would have bin poxt first. Allume le torche, sweet Pages commend us to your Ladies, say we kisse their white hands, and will not faile to meete them; Knights, which of you leades?
Goos. Not wee, sir; you are a Captaine, and a leader.
Rud. Besides, thou art commended for the better man, for thou art very Commendations it selfe, and Captaine Commendations.
Foul. Why? what tho I be Captain Commendations?
Rud. Why and Captaine Commendations, is harty commendations, for Captaines are harty I am sure, or else hang them.
Foul. Why, what if I be harty Commendations? come, come, sweete Knights, lead the way.