Iack_. A my word (_Will_) tis the great _Baboone_, that was to be seen
in _Southwarke_.

_Will_. Is this he? Gods my life what beastes were we, that we wood not
see him all this while, never trust me if he looke not somewhat like a
man: see how pretely he holds the torche in one of his forefeete: wheres
his keeper trowe, is he broke loose?

_Iack_. Hast ever an Apple about thee (_Will_)? Weele take him up; sure,
we shall get a monstrous deale of mony with him.

_Will_. That we shall yfath, boy! and looke thou here, heres a red
cheeckt apple to take him up with.

_Ia_. Excellent fit a my credit; lets lay downe our provant, and to him.

_Bul_. Ile let them alone a while.

_Ia_. Give me the apple to take up _Iack_, because my name is _Iack_.

_Will_. Hold thee, _Iack_, take it.

_Ia_. Come, _Iack_, come, _Iack_, come, _Iack_.

_Bul_. I will come to you sir, Ile _Iack_ ye a my word, Ile _Iack_ ye.

_Will_. Gods me he speakes, _Iack_. O pray pardon us, Sir.

_Bul_. Out, ye _mopede monckies_, can yee not knowe a man from a
_Marmasett_, in theis Frenchified dayes of ours? nay, ile _Iackefie_
you a little better yet.

_Both_. Nay good Sir, good Sir, pardon us.

_Bul_. Pardon us! out ye home-bred peasants, plain English, pardon us?
if you had parled, & not spoken, but said _Pardonne moy_, I wood have
pardon'd you, but since you speake and not parley, I will cudgell ye
better yet.

_Ambo_. _O pardonne moy, mounsieur_.

_Bul_. _Bien je vous remercy_; thers _pardonne four vous_, sir, now.

_Will_. Why I thanke ye for it, Sir; you seeme to bee a Squire of our
order Sir.

_Ia_. Whose page might you be Sir.

_Bul_. I am now the great French Travalers page.

_Will_. Or rather the _French_ Travalers great page, Sir; on, on.

_Bul_. Hight Captaine _Fowleweather_, alias Commendations; whose
valours within here at super with the Countes _Eugenia_, whose propper
eaters I take you two to be.

_Will_. You mistake us not Sir.

_Ia_. This Captaine _Fowleweather_, alias Commendations--

_Will_. Is the Gallant that will needs be a sutor to our Countes.

_Bul_.[1] Faith, and if Fouleweather be a welcome suter to a faire Lady,
has good lucke.

_Ia_. O Sir, beware of one that can showre into the lapps of Ladies.
Captaine Fowleweather? why hees a Captinado, or Captaine of Captaines,
and will lie in their joyntes that give him cause to worke uppon them so
heauylie, that he will make their hartes ake I warrant him. Captai