_Sir Vau._ Mistris Miniuer, one vrde in your corner heere; I desire you to breake my armes heere, and read this Paper, you shall feele my mindes and affections in it, at full and at large. _Mini._ Ile receiue no Loue libels perdy, but by word a mouth. |1075| _Sir Vaughan._ By Sesu tis no libell, for heere is my hand to it. _Mini._ Ile ha no hand in it Sir Vaughan, Ile not deale with you. _Sir Vau._ Why then widdow, Ile tell you by word a mouth my deuices. _Mi._ Your deuices come not neere my mouth Sir Vaughan |1080| perdy, I was vpon a time in the way to marriage, but now I am turn’d a tother side, I ha sworne to leade a single and simple life. _Sir Adam._ She has answer’d you Sir Vaughan. _Sir Vau._ Tis true, but at wrong weapons Sir Adam; will you be an Asse Mistris Miniuers? |1085| _Min._ If I be you shall not ride me. _Sir Vaug._ A simple life! by Sesu tis the life of a foole, a simple life! _Sir qui._ How now Sir Vaughan? _Sir Vaugh._ My braines has a little fine quawme come vnder it, |1090| and therefore Sir Adam, and Sir Quintilian, and mistris Miniuer caps God bo’y. _All._ Good Sir Vaughan. _Sir Vaugh._ Master Horace, your inuentions doe her no good in the Vniuersalities; yet heere is two shillings for your wittes; |1095| nay by Sesu you shall take it if’t were more: yonder bald Adams, is put my nose from his ioynt; but Adam I will be euen to you: this is my cogitations, I will indite the Ladies & Miniuer caps to a dinner of Plumbes, and I shall desire you M. Horace, |1100| to speake or raile; you can raile I hope in God a mighty. _Hor._ You meane to speake bitterlie. _Sir Vaughan._ Right, to spitte bitterly vpon baldnes, or the thinnes of haire; you sall eate downe Plumbes to sweeten your mouth, and heere is a good Ansell to defend you: Peter Salamander |1105| follow me. _Flash._ With hue and crie and you will Sir. _Sir Vau._ Come M. Horace, I will goe pull out the Ladies. _Ho._ And Ile set out my wits, Baldnes the Theame? My words shall flow hye in a siluer stream. _Exeunt._ |1110| _Enter_ Tucca _brushing off the crumbes_. _Tuc._ Wher’s my most costly and sumptuous Shorthose? _Sir Quint._ Is the King risen from table Captaine Tucca? _Tuc._ How? risen? no my noble Quintilian, kings are greater men then we Knights and Caualliers, and therefore must eate |1115| more then lesser persons; Godamercy good Diues for these crummes: how now? has not Frier Tucke din’d yet? he falles so hard to that Oyster-pye yonder. _Sir quin._ Oyster-pye Captaine? ha, ha, he loues her, and I loue her and feare both shall goe without her. |1120| _Tuc._ Dost loue her, my finest and first part of the Mirrour of Knighthood? hange her she lookes like a bottle of ale, when the corke flyes out and the Ale fomes at mouth, shee lookes my good button-breech like the signe of Capricorne, or like Tiborne when it is couer’d with snow.