Fur. Doe so sir Gyles, and withall use meanes
To taint their high blouds with the shafte of Love.
Sometimes a fingers motion wounds their mindes:
A jest, a jesture, or a prettie laugh:
A voyce, a present; ah, things done ith nicke
Wound deepe, and sure; and let flie your gold,
And we shall nuptialls have, hold, belly, hold.
Goos. O rare sir Cut. we shall eate nut-shells: hold, belly, hold!
[Exeunt.
Ia.—O pittifull Knight, that knowes not nuptialls from nut-shells!
Wil. And now Comme porte vous, monsieur!
Bul. Porte bien, vous remercy.
Ia. We may see it indeed, Sir, and you shall goe afore with us.
Bul. No good monsieurs.
Wil. Another Crashe in my Ladies Celler yfaith, monsieur.
Bul. Remercy de bon ceur, monsieurs.