Flo. Why, you whoreson rogue! where's my suit? As I hope for mercy, I am half-persuaded that this slip-halter has pawned my clothes.
Car. Nay, as our rooms be near, our fates are all alike.
If my visit be admitted, I must present it naked.
Joc. When she sees her Salibrand so unmodiously accoutred, she will jeer him out of his periwig, and render him an Adamite cap-a-pie.
Pal. Never were servants without a dress less suitable to ladies of the New Dress.
Sal. We shall be held for salemen, or Knights of the White Livery, if we encounter them thus habited.
Mor. Nay, rather for Knights o' th' Post, who had forfeited their broked suits for want of swearing.
Til. Nay, for tumblers, truckers, or scullermen: Plato, in all his Commonweal, had never such naked followers.
[Their pages bring their clothes.
Flo. Now, you hemp-strings, had you no time to nim us, but when we were upon our visits?