COOMES. Come, come, a couple of whoremasters I found ye, and so I leave ye. [Exit.
PHIL. Lo, Frank, dost thou not see he's drunk,
That twits thee[239] with thy disposition?
FRAN. What disposition?
PHIL. Nan Lawson, Nan Lawson.
FRAN. Nay, then—
PHIL. Go to, ye wag, 'tis well:
If ever ye get a wife, i'faith I'll tell.
Sirrah, at home we have a servingman;
He is[240] not humour'd bluntly as Coomes is,
Yet his condition[241] makes me often merry:
I'll tell thee, sirrah, he's a fine neat fellow,
A spruce slave; I warrant ye, he will[242] have
His cruel garters[243] cross about the knee,
His woollen hose as white as th'driven snow,
His shoes dry-leather neat, and tied with red ribbons,
A nosegay bound with laces in his hat—
Bridelaces, sir—and his hat all green[244],
Green coverlet for such a grass-green wit.
"The goose that grazeth on the green," quoth he,
"May I eat on, when you shall buried be!"
All proverbs is his speech, he's proverbs all.
FRAN. Why speaks he proverbs?
PHIL. Because he would speak truth,
And proverbs, you'll confess, are old-said sooth.
FRAN. I like this well, and one day I will see him:
But shall we part?
PHIL. Not yet, I'll bring ye somewhat on your way,
And as we go, between your boy and you
I'll know where that brave prancer stands at livery.