superfluous.

_Sir G._ [_Within._] Is my lord stirring?

_Lov._ 'Tis he! Oh, here's your letter; let him in.

_Enter_ Sir Giles, Greedy, _and_ Marall.

_Sir G._ A good day to my lord.

_Lov._ You are an early riser, Sir Giles.

_Sir G._ And reason, to attend to your lordship.

_Lov._ And you too, Mr. Greedy, up so soon?

_Greedy._ In troth, my lord, after the sun is up
I cannot sleep; for I have a foolish stomach,
That croaks for breakfast. With your lordship's favour,
I have a serious question to demand
Of my worthy friend, Sir Giles.

_Lov._ Pray you, use your pleasure.

_Greedy._ How far, Sir Giles, and 'pray you, answer me
Upon your credit, hold you it to be,
From your manor-house, to this of my Lady Allworth's?

_Sir G._ Why, some four miles.

_Greedy._ How! four miles, good Sir Giles?
Upon your reputation think better;
For four miles riding
Could not have rais'd so huge an appetite
As I feel gnawing on me.

_Mar._ Whether you ride
Or go a-foot, you are that way still provided,
And it please your worship.

_Sir G._ How now, sirrah! prating
Before my lord! no difference? go to my nephew,
See all his debts discharged, and help his worship
To fit on his rich suit.

_Mar._ I may fit you too. [_Exit_ Marall.

_Lov._ I have writ this morning
A few lines to my mistress, your fair daughter.

_Sir G._ Twill fire her, for she's wholly yours already.
Sweet Mr. Allworth, take my ring; 'twill carry
To her presence, I warrant you; and there plead
For my good lord, if you shall find occasion.
That done, pray ride to Nottingham; get a license,
Still, by this token. I'll have it despatch'd,
And suddenly, my lord: that I may say,
My honourable, nay, right honourable daughter.

_Greedy._ Take my advice, young gentleman; get your breakfast.
'Tis unwholesome to ride fasting. I'll eat with you;
And that abundantly.

_Sir G._ Some fury's in that gut:
Hungry again? Did you not devour this morning
A shield of brawn, and a barrel of Colchester oysters?

_Greedy._ Why, that was, sir, only to scour my stomach,
A kind of preparative.
I am no camelion, to feed on air; but love
To see the board well spread,
Groaning under the heavy burden of the beast
That cheweth the cud, and the fowl
That cleaveth the air. Come, young gentleman,
I will not have you feed alone, while I am here.

_Lov._ Haste your return.

_Allw._ I will not fail, my lord.

_Greedy._ Nor I, to line
My Christmas coffer.

[_Exeunt_ G