Iago. I learn'd it in England: where indeed they are most potent in Potting. Your Dane, your Germaine, and your swag-belly'd Hollander, (drinke hoa) are nothing to your English
Cassio. Is your Englishmen so exquisite in his drinking?
Iago. Why, he drinkes you with facillitie, your Dane
dead drunke. He sweates not to ouerthrow your Almaine.
He giues your Hollander a vomit, ere the next
Pottle can be fill'd
Cas. To the health of our Generall
Mon. I am for it Lieutenant: and Ile do you Iustice
Iago. Oh sweet England.
King Stephen was anda worthy Peere,
His Breeches cost him but a Crowne,
He held them Six pence all to deere,
With that he cal'd the Tailor Lowne:
He was a wight of high Renowne,
And thou art but of low degree:
'Tis Pride that pulls the Country downe,
And take thy awl'd Cloake about thee.
Some Wine hoa
Cassio. Why this is a more exquisite Song then the other
Iago. Will you heare't againe? Cas. No: for I hold him to be vnworthy of his Place, that do's those things. Well: heau'ns aboue all: and there be soules must be saued, and there be soules must not be saued
Iago. It's true, good Lieutenant
Cas. For mine owne part, no offence to the Generall, nor any man of qualitie: I hope to be saued
Iago. And so do I too Lieutenant