Let us be seen on Hygale Greene,
To dance for the honour of Holloway,
Since we are come hither, let's spare for no leather,
To dance for the honour of Holloway.
Ed. Well said, my boys, I must have my lord's livery; what is't, a maypole? troth, 'twere a good body for a courtier's impreza, if it had but this life—Frustra storescit. Hold, cousin, hold.
(He gives the fool money.)
Fool. Thanks, cousin, when the lord my father's audit comes, we'll repay you again, your benevolence too, sir.
Mam. What! a lord's son become a beggar!
Fool. Why not, when beggars are become lord's sons. Come, 'tis but a trifle.
Mam. Oh, sir, many a small make a great.