Boy, look you walk my horse with discretion; I have rid him
simply. I warrant his skin sticks to his back with very heat:
if a should catch cold and get the Cough of the Lungs I were
well served, were I not?

[Enter Sam. Furnisht with things from London.]

What, Ralph and Oliver.

AMBO.
Honest fellow Sam, welcome, yfaith! what tricks hast thou
brought from London?

SAM.
You see I am hangd after the truest fashion: three hats, and
two glasses, bobbing upon em, two rebato wires upon my breast,
a capcase by my side, a brush at my back, an Almanack in my
pocket, and three ballats in my Codpiece: nay, I am the true
picture of a Common servingman.

OLIVER.
I'll swear thou art. Thou mayest set up when thou wilt.
There's many a one begins with less, I can tell thee, that
proves a rich man ere he dies. But what's the news from
London, Sam?

RALPH.
Aye, that's well said; what's the news from London, Sirrah?
My young mistress keeps such a puling for her love.