Boy. Faith, sir, I thinke——
Fran. Villaine, what do yee thinke?
Bay. I thinke that you, sir, have bene askt by many,
But yet I never heard that yee tolde any.
Phil. Well, boy, then I will adde one more to many, 90
And aske thy maister where this jennet feeds.—
Come, Franke, tell me, nay, prethie, tell me, Franke,
My good horse-maister, tell me—by this light,
I will not steale her from thee; if I do,
Let me be held a felone to thy love. 95