Har. Nay, by your leave, sir, but I'll hold your worship.
This stir we should have had, had you stood there.
Wal. Why, would it not vex one to hear the ass
Stand prating here of dit and dan, and den and dog?
Har. One of thy mettle, Ned, would surely do it.
But peace, and hark to the rest.
Del. Do no de fine gentlewoman Maitresse Mathe dwell in this plashe?
Heigh. No, sir; here dwells none of your fine gentlewomen: 'twere a good deed, sirrah, to see who you are. You come hither to steal my glasses, and then counterfeit you are going to your quean's.
Del. I be deceve dis dark night. Here be no wensh, I be no in de right plashe. I pray, monsieur, wat be name dis street, and wish be de way to Croche Friars?
Heigh. Marry, this is Fenchurch Street, and the best way to Crutched Friars is to follow your nose.
Del. Vanshe Street! How shance me come to Vanshe Street? Vel, monsieur, we must aller to Croche Friars. [Exit Delion.
Wal. Farewell, fortypence,[526] go seek you, signor. I hope you'll find yourselves two dolts anon. Hush, Ferdinand, I hear the last come stamping hither.
Enter Frisco.