Quar. Where’s Numps? I miss him.
Waspe. Why, I say nay to’t.
Quar. O, there he is.
Knock. To what do you say nay, sir?
[Here they continue their game of vapours, which is nonsense. Every man to oppose the last man that spoke, whether it concern’d him, or no.
Waspe. To any thing, whatsoever it is, so long as I do not like it.
Whit. Pardon me, little man, dou musht like it a little.
Cut. No, he must not like it at all, sir: there you are i’ the wrong.
Whit. I tink I bee; he musht not like it indeed.