_Foro._ No, I do mean in the new world, In the world that's in the Moon yonder. _Tay._ How? a new world 'ith' moon? _Foro._ Yes I assure you. _Tay._ And peopled? _Foro._ O most fantastically peopled. _Tay._ Nay certain then there's work for taylors? _Foro._ That there is I assure you. _Tay._ Yet I have talked with a Scotch taylor That never discover'd so much to me, Though he has travell'd far, and was a pedlar in _Poland_. _Foro._ That was out of his way, This lies beyond _China_: You would study new fashions you say? Take my councell, make a voyage, And discover that new world. _Tay._ Shall I be a moon-man? _Foro._ I am of opinion, the people of that world (If they be like the nature of that climate they live in) Do vary the fashion of their cloaths oftener than any Quick-silver'd nation in Europe. _Tay._ Not unlikely, but what should that be we call The man in the moon then? _Foro._ Why 'tis nothing but an Englishman That stands there stark naked, With a pair of sheers in one hand, And a great bundle of broad cloath in the other (Which resembles the bush of thorns) Cutting out of new fashions. _Taylor._ I have heard somewhat like this, But how shall I get thither? _Foro._ I'll make a new compass shall direct you. _Tay._ Certain? _Foro._ Count me else for no man of direction. _Tay._ There's 20 duckats in hand, at my return I'll give you a 100. _Foro._ A new voyage to discover new fashions. _Mul._ I have been a traveller too sir, That have shewed strange beasts in Christendome, And got money by them, but I find the trade to decay. Your Camelion, or East-Indian hedg-hog Gets very little mony, and your Elephant devours So much bread, brings in so little profit, His keeper were better every morning Cram 15 Taylors with white manchet: I would have some new spectacle, And one that might be more attractive. _Foro._ Let me see, were you ever in _Spain_? _Mule._ Not yet Sir. _Foro._ I would have you go to _Madrill_, and against some great festivall, when the court lies there, provide a great and spacious Eng[li]sh Oxe, and rost him whole, with a pudding in's bely; that would be the eighth wonder of the world in those parts I assure you. _Mule._ A rare project without question. _Foro._ Goe beyond all their garlike _olle padridoes_, though you sod one in _Garguentuas_ couldron, bring in more money, then all the monsters of _Affrick_. _Host._ Good Sir do your best for him; he's of my acquaintance, and one if ye knew him-- _Foro._ What is he? _Host._ He was once a man of infinite letters. _Foro._ A Scholar? _Host._ No sir, a packet carrier, which is alwaies a man of many letters, you know: then he was Mule-driver, now he's a gentleman, and feeds monsters.