Foul. That we will, I warrent you, sir Giles.
Rud. Torches? why the Moone will shine, man.
Goos. The Moone, sir Cut: I scorne the Moone yfaith. Slydd, sometimes a man shall not get her to shine, and if he wood give her a couple of Capons, and one of them must be white too. God forgive me, I cud never abide her since yesterday, she seru'd me such a tricke tother night.
Rud. What tricke, sir Gyles?
Goos. Why sir Cut. cause the daies be mortall, and short now you know, and I love daie light well; I thought it went away faster than it needed, and run after it into Finsbury-fieldes ith calme evening to see the wind-Mils goe; and even as I was going over a Ditch the Moone by this light of purpose runnes me behind a Cloud, and lets me fall into the Ditch by Heaven.
Rud. That was ill done in her, indeed sir Gyles.
Goos. Ill done sir Cut? Slydd a man may beare, and beare, but, and she have noe more good manners, but to make every blacke slovenly Cloud a pearle in her eye I shall nere love English Moone againe, while I live, Ile be sworne to ye.
Foul. Come, Knights, to London: Horse, Horse, Horse.
Rud. In what a case he is with the poor English Moone, because the French Moones (their Torches) will be the lesse in fashion, and I warrent you the Captaine will remember it too: tho he say nothing, he seconds his resolute chase so, and follows him, Ile lay my life you shall see them the next cold night, shut the Mooneshine out of their Chambers, and make it lie without Doores all night. I discredit my wit with their company, now I thinke on't, plague a god on them; Ile fall a beating on them presently.
[Exit.