by heaven: beg me?

_Foul_. He begges you to be content, sir _Gyles_; that is, he praies
you.

_Goos_. O does he praise me then I commend him.

_Fur_. Let this unsutable foole goe, sir _Gyles_; we will make shift
without him.

_Goos_. That we wil, a my word, my Lord, and have him too for all this.

_Wil_. Doe not you say so, sir _Gyles_, for to tell you true that foole
is dead.

_Goos_. Dead? slight that can not be, man; I know he wood ha writ to me
ant had byn so.

_Fur_. Quick or dead, let him goe, sir _Giles_.

_Ia_. I, my Lord, for we have better newes for you to harken after.

_Fur_. What are they, my good Novations?

_Ia_. My Lord _Momford_ intreates your Lordship, and these knights and
captaine to accompany the Countesse _Eugenia_, and the other two Ladies,
at his house at supper to night.

_Wil_. All desiring your Lo: to pardon them, for not eating your meat to
night.

_Fur_. Withall my hart wagges, and thers amends; my harts, now set your
courtshippe a' the last, a the tainters, and pricke up your selves for
the Ladies.

_Goos_. O brave sir _Cut_: come lets pricke up the Ladies.

_Fur_. And will not the Knights two noble kinsemen be there?

_Ia_. Both will be there, my Lord.

_Fur_. Why theres the whole knot of us then, and there shall we knocke
up the whole triplicitie of your nuptials.

_Goos_. Ile make my Lord my Cosin speake for me.

_Foul_. And your Lordship will be for me I hope.

_Fur_. With tooth and naile Captaine, a my Lord[ship].

_Rud_. Hang am Tytts! ile pommell my selfe into am.

_Ia_. Your Lo: your Cosin, sir _Gyles_, has promist the Ladies they
shall see you sowe.

_Goos_. Gods me, wood I might never be mortall, if I doe not carry my
worke with me.

_Fur_. Doe so sir _Gyles_, and withall use meanes
To taint their high blouds with the shafte of Love.
Sometimes a fingers motion wounds their mindes:
A jest, a jesture, or a prettie laugh:
A voyce, a present; ah, things done ith nicke
Wound deepe, and sure; and let flie your gold,
And we shall nuptialls have, hold, belly, hold.

_Goos_. O rare sir _Cut_. we shall eate nut-shells: hold, belly, hold!

[_Exeunt_.

_Ia_.--O pittifull Knight, that knowes not nuptialls from nut-shells!

_Wil_. And now _Comme porte vous, monsieur_!

_Bul_. _Porte bien, vous remercy_.

_Ia_. We may see it indeed, Sir, and you shall goe afore with us.

_Bul_. No good _monsieurs_.

_Wil_. Another