Fran. Dove! one of those that drawe the queene of love? 55
Mal. How now? whose that, brother? whose that with ye?
Phil. A gentleman, my friend.
Mal. Beladie, he hath a pure wit.
Fran. How meanes your holy judgement?
Mal. O, well put in, sir! 60
Fran. Up, you would say.
Mal. Well climde, gentleman!
I pray, sir, tell me, do you carte the queene of love?
Fran. Not cart her, but couch her in your eye,