Wife. I pray you, youth, let him have a suit of reparrel: I'll be sworn, gentlemen, my husband tells you true, he will act you sometimes at our house, that all the neighbours cry out on him: he will fetch you up a couraging part so in the garret, that we are all as feared I warrant you, that we quake again. We fear our children with him, if they be never so unruly, do but cry "Ralph comes, Ralph comes" to them, and they'll be as quiet as lambs. Hold up thy head, Ralph, show the gentlemen what thou canst do; speak a huffing part, I warrant you the gentlemen will accept of it.
Cit. Do, Ralph, do.
Ralph. By heaven (methinks) it were an easy leap
To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon,
Or dive into the bottom of the sea,
Where never fathom line touched any ground,
And pluck drowned honour from the lake of hell.
Cit. How say you, gentlemen, is it not as I told you?
Wife. Nay, gentlemen, he hath played before, my husband says, "Musidorus," before the wardens of our company.