_Foul_. Cods precious, sir _Cutt_: your _Frenchman_ never lights
I tell ye.

_Goos_. Light, sir _Cutt_! Slight, and I had my horse againe, theres
nere a paltry English frost an them all shood make me light.

_Rud_. Goe too, you _French_ Zanies you, you will follow the _French_
steps so long, till you be not able to set one sound steppe oth ground
all the daies of your life.

_Goos_. Why, sir _Cut_: I care not if I be not sound, so I be well, but
we were justly plagu'd by this Hill, for following women thus.

_Foul_. I, and English women too, sir _Gyles_.

_Rud_. Thou art still prating against English women, I have seene none
of the _French_ Dames, I confesse, but your greatest gallants, for men
in _France_, were here lately,[24] I am sure, and me thinks there
should be no more difference betwixt our Ladies, and theirs, then there
is betwixt our Lords, and theirs, and our Lords are as farr byond them
yfaith, for person, and Courtship, as they are beyond ours for
phantasticality.

_Foul_. O Lord sir _Cut_. I am sure our Ladies hold our Lords tacke for
Courtship, and yet the _French_ Lords put them downe; you noted it, sir
_Gyles_.

_Goos_. O God sir, I stud, and heard it, as I sat ith presence.