_Host_, I have thee, brave spirit, tha'rt of the true seede of _Troy_,
lets be merrie and wise, merrie hearts live long; mine Host, my brave
Host, with his neighbor _Cornutus_ shall bee two of the Maskers, and the
Morrice shall be daunc'd.
_Cor_. Not so, mine Host. I dare not doe so, t'will distemper my wife,
my house will be unquiet; mum, mum, I know the world, well enough.
_Host_. Thou shall goe, saies mine Host, merrie hearts live long;
welcome, bullie! mine Host shall make one, so shall my _Cornutus_, for
if I say the word the mouse shall be dun.
_Enter Bos with Porters_.
_Porters_. Save ye mine Host, heeres a parcell of Corne was directed to
be delivered at your house.
_Host_. What ware, my little Atlas, what ware is it?
2 _Por_. I know not, but i'me sure tis as heavie as a horse and--
1 _Por_. I thinke, tis a barrel of oyle, for it spurg'd at my backe.
_Bos_. It was oyle, for I drew the Tap.
_Grac_. What, _Bos_, what mak'st thou heere?
_Acc_. Oh, _chara_[317] _deum soboles, magnum bovis incrementum_.
_Bos_, art there, there?
_Bos_.
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