Host.

Sir, you're welcome to this house, to such as is here with all my heart; but I fear your lodging will be the worst. I have but two beds, and they are both in a chamber; and the carrier and his daughter lies in the one, and you and your wife must lie in the other.

Cob.
'Faith, sir, for myself I do not greatly pass:
My wife is weary, and would be at rest,
For we have travell'd very far to day;
We must be content with such as you have.

Host.

But I cannot tell what to do with your man.

Har.

What? hast thou never an empty room in thy house for me?

Host.

Not a bed in troth. There came a poor Irishman, and I lodg'd him in the barn, where he has fair straw, although he have nothing else.

Har.

Well, mine host, I pr'ythee help me to a pair of clean sheets, and I'll go lodge with him.

Host.

By the mass that thou shalt, a good pair of hempen sheets were ne'er lain in: come.

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