MARTHA. Don't forget the collection, Master Ableways.
PETER. Ay, the collection. (He takes off his hat and places it on the ground.)
HUMPHREY. Nay, not so fast, Master Peter. It would be ill if the good folk thought that our success this night were to be estimated by an empty hat. Place some of our money in it, Master Ableways. Where money is, money will come.
JENNIFER. Ay, it makes a pleasing clink.
PETER. True, Mistress Jennifer. Master Humphrey speaks true. (He pours some coppers from his pockets into his hat.)
MARTHA. Are we to go on, Master Ableways? My feet are cold.
PETER (shaking the hat). So, a warming noise.
HUMPHREY. To it again, gentles.
PETER. Are all ready? One—two—three! (They carol.)
PETER. Well sung, all.