Prin. Well, thus we play the Fooles with the time, &
the spirits of the wise, sit in the clouds, and mocke vs: Is
your Master heere in London?
Bard. Yes my Lord
Prin. Where suppes he? Doth the old Bore, feede in
the old Franke?
Bard. At the old place my Lord, in East-cheape
Prin. What Company?
Page. Ephesians my Lord, of the old Church
Prin. Sup any women with him?
Page. None my Lord, but old Mistris Quickly, and M[istris].
Doll Teare-sheet
Prin. What Pagan may that be?
Page. A proper Gentlewoman, Sir, and a Kinswoman
of my Masters
Prin. Euen such Kin, as the Parish Heyfors are to the
Towne-Bull?
Shall we steale vpon them (Ned) at Supper?
Poin. I am your shadow, my Lord, Ile follow you
Prin. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your
Master that I am yet in Towne.
There's for your silence
Bar. I haue no tongue, sir
Page. And for mine Sir, I will gouerne it
Prin. Fare ye well: go.
This Doll Teare-sheet should be some Rode