CLER: I thought he would not hear it out, but 'twould take him.

DAUP: Well, there be guests and meat now; how shall we do for
music?

CLER: The smell of the venison, going through the street, will
invite one noise of fiddlers or other.

DAUP: I would it would call the trumpeters hither!

CLER: Faith, there is hope: they have intelligence of all feasts.
There's good correspondence betwixt them and the London cooks:
'tis twenty to one but we have them.

DAUP: 'Twill be a most solemn day for my uncle, and an excellent
fit of mirth for us.

CLER: Ay, if we can hold up the emulation betwixt Foole and Daw,
and never bring them to expostulate.

DAUP: Tut, flatter them both, as Truewit says, and you may take
their understandings in a purse-net. They'll believe themselves
to be just such men as we make them, neither more nor less. They
have nothing, not the use of their senses, but by tradition.

[RE-ENTER LA-FOOLE, LIKE A SEWER.]

CLER: See! sir Amorous has his towel on already. Have you persuaded
your cousin?