Goos. Here my Lord.
Mom. Come forward, Knight; t'is you that the Ladies admire at working, a mine honour.
Goos. A little at once my Lorde for idlenes sake.
Fur. Sir Cut, I say, to her Captaine.
Penel. Come good servant let's see what you worke.
Goos. Why looke you, Mistris, I am makeing a fine dry sea, full of fish, playing in the bottome, and here ile let in the water so lively, that you shall heare it rore.
Eug. Not heare it, sir Gyles?
Goos. Yes in sooth, Madam, with your eyes.
Tal. I, Lady; for when a thing is done so exceedingly to the life, as my Knightly cosen does it, the eye oftentimes takes so strong a heede of it, that it cannot containe it alone, and therefore the eare seemes to take part with it.
Hip. That's a verie good reason, my Lord.