Bos. The truth is the fatall sisters have cut the thred of her Cork-shoe, & shee's stept aside in to a Coblers shop to take a true stitch, whether I mean to send myself as a Court of Guard to conduct her, but see, oh inconstant fortune! see where she comes, solus.
Enter[241] Getica.
Gent. Bos, you serve me well, to let me wait upon my selfe.
Bos. Of two evils, the least is to be chosen, I had a care of your puppie being less then your selfe.
Scil. Gentlewoman, you have an excellent Ch: [sic] I have an appetite as a man would say.
Gent. Whats your will, sir?
Scil. Truth will to light, and the truth is I have an appetite to kisse you.
Phil. This point would become a Gentleman, sure; I pray, who trim'd it so?
Gent. My man, forsooth.
Phy. Sir, I desire your acquaintance; tis excellent, rare.