Sir, you shall stay, and dine with me, and if we can agree, we'll not
part in haste: I am very bountiful to men of quality. Where shall we go,
signior?

PUNT. Your Mitre is your best house.

SHIFT. I can make this dog take as many whiffes as I list, and he shall
retain, or effume them, at my pleasure.

PUNT. By your patience, follow me, fellows.

SOG. Sir Puntarvolo!

PUNT. Pardon me, my dog shall not eat in his company for a million.
[EXIT WITH HIS SERVANTS.

CAR. Nay, be not you amazed, signior Whiffe, whatever that stiff-necked
gentleman says.

SOG. No, for you do not know the humour of the dog, as we do: Where shall
we dine, Carlo? I would fain go to one of these ordinaries, now I am a
gentleman.

CAR. So you may; were you never at any yet?

SOG. No, faith; but they say there resorts your most choice gallants.

CAR. True, and the fashion is, when any stranger comes in amongst 'em,
they all stand up and stare at him, as he were some unknown beast, brought
out of Africk; but that will be helped with a good adventurous face. You
must be impudent enough, sit down, and use no respect: when anything's
propounded above your capacity smile at it, make two or three faces, and
'tis excellent; they'll think you have travell'd; though you argue, a whole
day, in silence thus, and discourse in nothing but laughter, 'twill pass.
Only, now and then, give fire, discharge a good full oath, and offer a
great wager; 'twill be admirable.

SOG. I warrant you, I am resolute; come, good signior, there's a poor
French crown for your ordinary.

SHIFT. It comes well, for I had not so much as the least portcullis of
coin before.

MIT. I travail with another objection, signior, which I fear will be
enforced against the author, ere I can be deliver'd of it.

COR. What's that sir?

MIT. That the argument of his comedy might have been of some other nature,
as of a duke to be in love with a countess, and that countess to be in love
with the duke's son, and the son to love the lady's waiting maid; some such
cross wooing, with a clown to their servingman, better than to be thus
near, and familiarly allied to the time.

COR. You say well, but I would fain hear one of these autumn-judgments
define once, "Quid sit comoedia?" if he cannot, let him content himself
with Cicero's definition, till he