"Lan. Sir Arthur, welcome to Lewsome, welcome, by my troth. What's the matter, man? why are you vext?
Oli. Why man, he would press me.
Lan. O fie, Sir Arthur, press him? He is a man of reckoning.
Wea. I that he is, Sir Arthur, he hath the nobles. The golden ruddocks he.
Ar. The fitter for the warrs: and were he not in favour With your worships, he should see, That I have power to press as good as he.
Oli. Chill stand to the trial, so chill.
Flow. I marry shall he, presse cloth and karsie, White pot and drowsen broth: tut, tut, he cannot.
Oli. Well, Sir, though you see vlouten cloth and karsie, chee a zeen zutch a karsie coat wear out the town sick a zilken jacket, as thick a one as you wear.
Flow. Well sed, vlitan vlattan.
Oli. A and well sed cocknell, and boe-bell too. What doest think cham aveard of thy zilken coat, no fer vere thee."