ALV. I pray de gratia, what be dis plashe? What do ye call dis street? HEIGH. What, sir? why, Leadenhall. Could you not see the four spouts as you came along? ALV. Certamente, Leadenhall, I hit my head by de way; der may be do voer spouts. I pray de gratia, wish be de way to Croche Friars? HEIGH. How, to Crutched Friars? Marry, you must go along till you come to the pump, and then turn on your right hand. ALV. Signor, a Dio. [_Exit_ ALVARO. HEIGH. Farewell, and be hang'd, signor! Now, for your fellow, if the ass would come. _Enter_ DELION. DEL. By my trot, me do so mush tinck of dit gentlewoman, de fine wensh, dat me tinck esh hour ten day, and esh day ten years, till I come to her. Here be de huis of sin vader, sal aller and knock. [_He knocks._ HEIGH. What a bots ails you, are you mad? Will you run over me, and break my glasses? DEL. Glasses! wat glasses? Pray, is Monsieur Pisaro to de maison? HAR. Hark, Ned, there's thy substance. [_Aside._ WAL. Nay, by the mass, the substance is here, The shadow's but an ass. [_Aside._ HEIGH. What Master Pisaro? Loggerhead! here is none of your Pisaros? DEL. Yes, but dit is de huis of Mester Pisaro. WAL. Will not this Monsieur Motley[525] take his answer? I'll go and knock the ass about the pate. HAR. Nay, by your leave, sir, but I'll hold your worship. This stir we should have had, had you stood there. WAL. Why, would it not vex one to hear the ass Stand prating here of dit and dan, and den and dog? HAR. One of thy mettle, Ned, would surely do it. But peace, and hark to the rest. DEL. Do no de fine gentlewoman Maitresse Mathe dwell in this plashe? HEIGH. No, sir; here dwells none of your fine gentlewomen: 'twere a good deed, sirrah, to see who you are. You come hither to steal my glasses, and then counterfeit you are going to your quean's. DEL. I be deceve dis dark night. Here be no wensh, I be no in de right plashe. I pray, monsieur, wat be name dis street, and wish be de way to Croche Friars? HEIGH. Marry, this is Fenchurch Street, and the best way to Crutched Friars is to follow your nose. DEL. Vanshe Street! How shance me come to Vanshe Street? Vel, monsieur, we must aller to Croche Friars. [_Exit_ DELION. WAL. Farewell, fortypence,[526] go seek you, signor. I hope you'll find yourselves two dolts anon. Hush, Ferdinand, I hear the last come stamping hither. _Enter_ FRISCO.