You know Manningham’s story of the burgher’s wife who bade Dick Burbage to her bed after she had seen him in Richard III and how Shakespeare, overhearing, without more ado about nothing, took the cow by the horns and, when Burbage came knocking at the gate, answered from the capon’s blankets:
James Joyce. Ulysses
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Cokes. I thank you for that, master Littlewit; a good jest! Which is your Burbage now?