_Prentices passe over_. [_Re-enter[242] Host_.]
_Host_. There, there, my little Lacky boies, againe, again, my fine
fil-pots! where is my fine Hostis? come, come, my little _Dido_, set
your corks on a creaking, my knaves are unthrifty; dance not your
Canaries heere up & down, looke about to my Guests I say.
_Hostis_. I, I have much joy, an Hostesse!
_Host_. What, abides my _Penelope_? heere stand[s] thy _Ulisses_,
ile tarry with thee still, thou shall want for no cost. Ile buy thee
a brave wistle; looke about to my Guestes, I say.
_Hostis_. I, Hostesses will bee knowne shortelye as their Signes; still
in one weather-beaten suite, as though none weare hoodes but Monkes and
Ladies, and feathers but fore-horses and Waiting Gentlewomen, or chaines
but prisoners and Courtiers; no Perywigges but Players and Pictures: but
the weakest must to the wall still.
_Host_. Tush, tush, these are toies; ile none of these Flipflaps, ile
have no soping, no puffs, nor no Cobwebs, no busks, nor bumbarrels;[243]
thou shalt weare thine own haire & fine cloath of Sheep-skins, thy
colour shall be Dowlas as white as a Lillie, ile kisse these
chop-cheries; thou shalt goe Gossip at Shrovetide; look about to my
Guests then.
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