When he can fetch thine hostesse in such post? 144
Miles. Ile warrant you, maister, if Maister Burden could conjure as well as you, hee would have his booke everie night from Henly to study on at Oxford.
Mason. Burden, what, are you mated by this frolicke frier?—
Looke how he droops; his guiltie conscience
Drives him to bash,[1303] and makes his hostesse blush. 150
Bacon. Well, mistres, for I wil not have you mist,
You shall to Henly to cheere up your guests
Fore supper ginne.—Burden, bid her adew;
Say farewell to your hostesse fore she goes.—
Sirha, away, and set her safe at home. 155