_Rud_. Content. _Ia_. How greedely they take it in, Sirra? _Goos_. No it is too farre to goe to night, weele be up betimes ith morning, and not goe to bedd at all. _Foul_. Why its but ten miles, and a fine cleere night, sir _Gyles_. _Goos_. But ten miles? what do ye talke, Captaine? _Rud_. Why? doost thinke its any more? _Goos_. I, Ile lay ten pounds its more than ten miles, or twelve eyther. _Rud_. What, to _Barnet_. _Goos_. I, to _Barnet_. _Rud_. Slydd, Ile lay a hundred pound with thee, if thou wilt. _Goos_. Ile lay five hundred, to a hundred. Slight I will not be outborne with a wager, in that I know: I am sure it was foure yeeres agon ten miles thether, and I hope tis more now. Slydd doe not miles grow thinke you, as well as other _Animals_? _Ia_. O wise Knight! _Goos_. I never innd in the Towne but once, and then they lodged me in a Chamber so full of these Ridiculous Fleas, that I was fain to lie standing all night, and yet I made my man rise, and put out the Candle too, because they should not see to bite me. _Foul_. A pretty project. _Bul_. Intruth Captaine, if I might advise you, you should tarry, and take the morning afore you. _Foul_. How? _O mon Dieu_! how the villaine _poultroune_, dishonours his travaile! You _Buffonly Mouchroun_, are you so mere rude, and English to advise your Captaine? _Rud_. Nay, I prethee _Fouleweather_, be not tempesteous with thy poore Lacquay. _Foul_. Tempesteous, Sir _Cutt_? will your _Frenchman_, thinke you, suffer his Lacquay to advise him? _Goos_. O God you must take heed Lacquy how you advise your Captaine; your French lacquay would not have done it. _Foul_. He would have bin poxt first. _Allume le torche_, sweet Pages commend us to your Ladies, say we kisse their white hands, and will not faile to meete them; Knights, which of you leades? _Goos_. Not wee, sir; you are a Captaine, and a leader. _Rud_. Besides, thou art commended for the better man, for thou art very Commendations it selfe, and Captaine Commendations. _Foul_. Why? what tho I be Captain Commendations? _Rud_. Why and Captaine Commendations, is harty commendations, for Captaines are harty I am sure, or else hang them. _Foul_. Why, what if I be harty Commendations? come, come, sweete Knights, lead the way. _Rud_. O Lorde Sir, alwayes after my harty Commendations. _Foul_. Nay then you conquer me with precedent, by the autenticall forme of all Iustice letters. [_Alloun. Exeunt_. _Ia_. Here's a most sweet Gudgeon swallowed, is there not? _Will_. I but how will they disgest it, thinkest thou when they shall finde our Ladies not there? _Ia_. I have a vaunt-currying[11] devise shall make them digest it most healthfully. [_Exeunt_. SCENA QUARTA. _Enter Clarence, Musicians_.