_Pen._ Oh the most precious vanity of this world; When such dry'd Neats-tongues must be soak'd and larded With young fat supple wenches! Oh the Devil. What can he do, he cannot suck an egg off But his back's loose i'th' hilts: go thy wayes Captain, Well may thy warlike name work Miracles, But if e'er thy founder'd courser win [match] more, Or stand right but one train-- _Enter three Gentlemen._ _1 Gen._ Now Signior _Shadow_, What art thou thinking of, how to rob thy Master? _Pen._ Of his good deeds? The Thief that undertakes that Must have a hook will poze all Hell to hammer: Have ye dined Gentlemen, or do you purpose? _2 Gent._ Dined, two long hours ago. _Pen._ Pray ye take me with ye. _3 Gent._ To supper dost thou mean? _Pe[n]._ To any thing That has the smell of meat in't: tell me true, Gentlemen, Are not you three going to be sinful? To iropard a joynt, or so? I have found your faces, And see whore written in your eyes. _1 Gent._ A parlous rascal, Thou art much upon the matter. _Pen._ Have a care Gentlemen, 'Tis a sore age, very sore age, lewd age, And women now are like old Knights adventures, Full of inchanted flames, and dangerous. _2 Gent._ Where the most danger is, there's the most honor. _Pen._ I grant ye, honor most consists in sufferance, And by that rule you three should be most honorable. _3 Gent._ A subtle Rogue: but canst thou tell _Penurio_ Where we may light upon-- _Pen._ A learned Surgeon? _3 Gent._ Pox take ye fool; I mean good wholsome wenches. _Pen._ 'Faith wholsome women will but spoil ye too, For you are so us'd to snap-haunces: But take my counsel, Take fat old women, fat, and five and fifty, The Dog-dayes are come in. _2 Gent._ Take fat old women? _Pen._ The fatter and the older, still the better, You do not know the pleasure of an old Dame, A fat old Dame, you do not know the knack on't: They are like our countrey Grotts, as cool as _Christmas_, And sure i' th' keels. _1 Gent._ Hang him starv'd fool: he mocks us. _3 Gent. Penurio_, thou know'st all the handsome wenches? What shall I give thee for a Merchants wife now? _Pen._ I take no money Gentlemen, that's base, I trade in meat, a Merchants wife will cost ye A glorious Capon; a great shoulder of Mutton; And a Tart as big as a Conjurers Circle. _3 Gent._ That's cheap enough. _1 Gent._ And what a Haberdashers? _Pen._ Worse meat will serve for her, a great Goose-Pie, But you must send it out o' th' Countrey to me, It will not do else: with a piece of Bacon, And if you can, a pot of Butter with it. _2 Gent._ Now do I aim at horse-flesh: what a Parsons?