Will. Save ye, Knights.
Ia. Save you, Captaine.
Foul. Pages, welcome my fine Pages.
Rud. Welcome, boyes.
Goos. Welcome, sweet Will, good Iacke.
Foul. But how chaunce you are so farre from London now pages? is it almost Dinner time?
Wil. Yes indeed Sir, but we left our fellowes to wait for once, and cood not chuse in pure love to your worships, but we must needs come, and meet you, before you mett our Ladies, to tell you a secret.
Omnes. A secret, what secret I pray thee?
Ia. If ever your worships say any thing, we are undone for ever.
Omnes. Not for a World beleeve it.