_Prig._ Lord reward you.

_Hig._ The Prince of pity bless thee.

_Hub._ Do I see? or is't my fancy that would have it so?
Ha? 'tis her face: come hither maid.

_Jac._ What ha' you,
Bells for my squirrel? I ha' giv'n bun meat,
You do not love me, do you? catch me a butterfly,
And I'le love you again; when? can you tell?
Peace, we go a birding: I shall have a fine thing. [_Exit._

_Hub._ Her voyce too sayes the same; but for my head
I would not that her manners were so chang'd.
Hear me thou honest fellow; what's this maiden,
That lives amongst you here?

_Gin._ Ao, ao, ao, ao.

_Hub._ How? nothing but signs?

_Gin._ Ao, ao, ao, ao.

_Hub._ This is strange,
I would fain have it her, but not her thus.

_Hig._ He is de-de-de-de-de-de-deaf, and du-du-dude-dumb Sir.