Quaffed by the line of Nimrod.

Bel.‍'Twas a brave one.

Arb. And is a weak one—'tis worn out—we'll mend it.

Bel. Art sure of that?

Arb.‍Its founder was a hunter—

I am a soldier—what is there to fear?

Bel. The soldier.

Arb.‍And the priest, it may be: but

If you thought thus, or think, why not retain

Your king of concubines? why stir me up?