Enter Jacke.[1116]
Jacke. You are well overtaken, sir.
Eum. Who's that?
Jacke. You are heartily well met, sir.
Eum. Forbeare, I say, who is that which pincheth mee? 660
Jacke. Trusting in God, good Master Eumenides, that you are in so good health as all your friends were at the making hereof, God give you God morrowe, sir, lacke you not a neate, handsome and cleanly yong lad, about the age of fifteene or sixteene yeares, that can runne[1117] by your horse,[1118] and for a neede make your master-shippes 665 shooes as blacke as incke,—howe say you sir?
Eum. Alasse, pretty lad, I know not how to keepe my selfe, and much lesse a servant, my pretty boy, my state is so bad.
Jacke. Content your selfe, you shall not bee so ill a master but ile bee as bad a servant. Tut, sir, I know you, though you know not 670 me. Are not you the man, sir, denie it if you can, sir,[1119] that came from a strange place in the land of Catita, where Jacke-a-napes flies with his taile in his mouth, to seeke out a Ladie as white as snowe, and as redd as blood; ha, ha, have I toucht you now?
Eum. I thinke this boy be a spirit. 675
How knowst thou all this?