[Enter Boy.]
How now, sirra, wheres the butler?
Boy. Mary, sir, where he was even now, a sleepe; but I wakt him, and when he wakt, he thought he was in mayster Barnses buttery, for he stretcht himselfe thus, and yauning said, 'Nicke, honest Nicke, fill a fresh bowle of ale; stand to it, Nicke, and thou beest a man of Gods making, stand to it'; and then I winded my horne, and hees horne-mad. 33
Enter Hodge.
Hodg. Boy, hey! ho, boy! and thou beest a man, draw.—O, heres a blessed mooneshine, God be thanked!—Boy, is not this goodly weather for barley? 36
Boy. Spoken like a right maulster, Hodge: but doost thou heare? thou art not drunke.
Hod. No, I scorne that, i faith.
Boy.[1717] But thy fellow Dicke Coomes is mightily drunke. 40
Hod. Drunke! a plague on it, when a man cannot carrie his drinke well! sbloud, Ile stand to it.
Boy. Hold, man; see and thou canst stand first.