Cit. Bring him away, then.
Wife. This will be brave, i'faith. George, shall not he dance the morrice, too, for the credit of the Strand?
Cit. No, sweetheart, it will be too much for the boy. Oh, there he is, Nell; he's reasonable well in reparel, but he has not rings enough.
Enter Ralph.
Ralph. "London, to thee I do present the merry month of May",
Let each true subject be content to hear me what I say:
For from the top of conduit head, as plainly may appear,
I will both tell my name to you, and wherefore I came here.
My name is Ralph, by due descent, though not ignoble I,
Yet far inferior to the flock of gracious grocery.