ur
family of Love.[240]

_Hostis_. How farre is your mistris behinde?

_Bos_. The truth is the fatall sisters have cut the thred of her
Cork-shoe, & shee's stept aside in to a Coblers shop to take a true
stitch, whether I mean to send myself as a Court of Guard to conduct
her, but see, oh inconstant fortune! see where she comes, _solus_.

_Enter[241] Getica_.

_Gent_. _Bos_, you serve me well, to let me wait upon my selfe.

_Bos_. Of two evils, the least is to be chosen, I had a care of your
puppie being less then your selfe.

_Scil_. Gentlewoman, you have an excellent Ch: [sic] I have an appetite
as a man would say.

_Gent_. Whats your will, sir?

_Scil_. Truth will to light, and the truth is I have an appetite to
kisse you.

_Phil_. This point would become a Gentleman, sure; I pray, who trim'd it
so?

_Gent_. My man, forsooth.

_Phy_. Sir, I desire your acquaintance; tis excellent, rare.

_Gent_. You would have said so, had you seene it an houre since.

_Ser_. Heeres game for me! I hunt for fooles and have sprung a covey.

_Hostis_. Gentles, please you, draw neere? lead the way into the
chambers.

_Bos_. _Bos_ is the name of a thing may be seene, felt, heard, or
understood, and the nominative case goes before my Mistris the Verbe; my
mistris requires an accusative case to follow, as _usus feminae proptus
facit_.
[_Exeunt al but Hostis_.

_Hostis_. Oh fye upont, who would be an hostis, & could do otherwise?
[A] Ladie [h]as the most lascivious life, conges and kisses, the tyre,
the hood, the rebato, the loose bodyed Gowne, the pin in the haire, and
everie day change, when an Hostis must come and go at everye mans
pleasure. And what's a Lady more then another body? Wee have legs, and
hands, rowling eyes and hanging lips, sleek browes, and cherie cheeks &
other things as Ladies have, but the fashion carries it away.

_Prentices passe over_. [_Re-enter[242] Host_.]

_Host_. There, there, my little Lacky boies, againe, again, my fine
fil-pots! where is my fine Hostis? come, come, my little _Dido_, set
your corks on a creaking, my knaves are unthrifty; dance not your
Canaries heere up & down, looke about to my Guests I say.

_Hostis_. I, I have much joy, an Hostesse!

_Host_. What, abides my _Penelope_? heere stand[s] thy _Ulisses_,
ile tarry with thee still, thou shall want for no cost. Ile buy thee
a brave wistle; looke about to my Guestes, I say.

_Hostis_. I, Hostesses will