Clowne. Yes of eele skinnes.—Staye you, Syrra, ho!
Fisher. I knowe no fish of that name; limpet, mullet, conger, dolphin, sharke I knowe, and place; I woold som body else had thyne; for hearinge I woold thou hadst none, nor codd; for smelt thou art too hott in my nose allredy; but such a fishe cald Syrra never came within the compasse of my nett. What art thou, a shrimpe, a dogg fish or a poore Jhon?[119]
Clowne.[120] I am one that watcht the tyde to know what thou hast caught, and have mony in my pockett to by thy draught.
Fisher. And I am one thou seest that have only an empty wett nett, but not so much as the tale of a spratte at thys tyme to sell for love of mony.
Clowne. I grant this is no Fryday and I at this tyme no cater for the fishmarkett. I only cam to desyre thy judgement and counsell.
Fisher. Go to the bench for judgment and to the lawe courts for counsell, I am free of neather, only one of Neptunes poore bastards, a spawne of the sea, and nowe gladly desyres to be rydd of thee aland.
Clowne. Onely one question resolve mee, and I have doone.
Fisher. To bee well ridd of the I care not if I loose so much tyme.
Clowne. But feythefully.
Fisher. As I am honest peeterman.[121]