A sayle, a sayle

Mer. Two, two: a Shirt and a Smocke

Nur. Peter?
Peter. Anon

Nur. My Fan Peter?
Mer. Good Peter to hide her face?
For her Fans the fairer face?
Nur. God ye good morrow Gentlemen

Mer. God ye gooden faire Gentlewoman

Nur. Is it gooden?
Mer. 'Tis no lesse I tell you: for the bawdy hand of the
Dyall is now vpon the pricke of Noone

Nur. Out vpon you: what a man are you?
Rom. One Gentlewoman,
That God hath made, himselfe to mar

Nur. By my troth it is said, for himselfe to, mar quatha:
Gentlemen, can any of you tel me where I may find
the young Romeo?
Romeo. I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older
when you haue found him, then he was when you sought
him: I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse

Nur. You say well