Fris. Ah, sirrah, now I know what manner of thing Paul's is; I did so mar'l[507] afore what it was, out of all count; for my master would say, would I had Paul's full of gold; my young mistress and Grimkin Taylor would wish they had Paul's full of needles. I once asked my master half a yard of frieze to make me a coat, and he cried, Whoop holiday! it was big enough to make Paul's a nightgown. I have been told that Duke Humfrey dwells here, and that he keeps open house, and that a brave sort of Cameleers[508] dine with him every day: now if I could see any vision in the world towards dinner, I would set in a foot. But the best is, as the ancient English Roman orator saith, Solame-men, misers, housewives, and so forth[509]. The best is, that I have great store of company, that do nothing but go up and down, and go up and down, and make a grumbling together, that the meat is so long making ready. Well, if I could meet this scurvy Frenchman, they should stay me, for I would be gone home.
Enter Anthony.
Anth. I beseech you, monsieur, give me audience.
Fris. What would you have? What should I give you?
Anth. Pardon, sir, mine uncivil and presumptuous intrusion, who endeavour nothing less, than to provoke or exasperate you against me.
Fris. They say, a word to the wise is enough, so by this little French that he speaks, I see he is the very man I seek for. Sir, I pray, what is your name?
Anth. I am nominated Monsieur La Mouche, and rest at your bon service.
Fris. I understand him partly yea, and partly nay. Can you speak French? Content pour vous, monsieur, madame.
Anth. If I could not, sir, I should ill-understand you; you speak the best French that ever trod upon shoe of leather.
Fris. Nay, I can speak more languages than that: This is Italian, is it not—Nelle slurde curtezana?