_Burr_. Aye, aye, a good honest young fellow; but no conjurer; he
and I are very kind.

_Fail_. Egad, we two have a constant revenue out of him: He would
now be admitted suitor to my Lady Constance Nonsuch, my Lord Nonsuch's
daughter; our neighbour here in Fleetstreet.

_Burr_. Is the match in any forwardness?

_Fail_. He never saw her before yesterday, and will not be
brought to speak to her this month yet.

_Burr_. That's strange.

_Fail_. Such a bashful knight did I never see; but we must move
for him.

_Bib_. They say, here's a great dinner to be made to-day here, at
your cousin Trice's, on purpose for the interview.

_Burr_. What, he keeps up his old humour still?

_Fail_. Yes, certain; he admires eating and drinking well, as
much as ever, and measures every man's wit by the goodness of his
palate.

_Burr_. Who dines here besides?

_Fail_. Jack Loveby.