Foul. I assure your Lordship, your merry behaviour does so festifally show upon you, that every high holliday, when Ladies wood be most beautifull, every one wishes to God she were turnd into such a little Lord as you, when y'are merry.
Goos. By this fire they doe my Lord, I have heard am.
Fur. Marry God forbid, Knight, they shood be turnd into me; I had rather be turnd into them, a mine honour.
Foul. Then for your Lordships quips, and quicke jests, why Gesta Romanorum were nothing to them, a my vertue.
Fur. Well, well, well, I will heare thee no more, I will heare thee no more, good Captaine. Tha's an excellent wit, and thou shalt have Crownes, a mine honour, and now Knights, and Captaine, the foole you told me off, do you all know him?
Goos. I know him best my Lord.
Fur. Doe you sir Gyles? to him then, good Knight, and be here with him and here, and here, and here againe; I meane paint him unto us sir Gyles, paint him lively, lively now, my good Knightly boy.
Goos. Why my good Lord? he will nere be long from us, because we are all mortall you know.
Fur. Very true.
Goos. And as soone as ever we goe to Dinner, and Supper together—