Lit. Here I have it for you in my hand, master Humphrey.
Waspe. That’s well: nay, never open or read it to me, it’s labour in vain, you know. I am no clerk, I scorn to be saved by my book, i’faith, I’ll hang first; fold it up on your word, and give it me. What must you have for it?
Lit. We’ll talk of that anon, master Humphrey.
Waspe. Now, or not at all, good master Proctor; I am for no anons, I assure you.
Lit. Sweet Win, bid Solomon send me the little black-box within in my study.
Waspe. Ay, quickly, good mistress, I pray you; for I have both eggs on the spit, and iron in the fire. [Exit Mrs. Littlewit.]—Say what you must have, good master Littlewit.
Lit. Why, you know the price, master Numps.
Waspe. I know! I know nothing, I: what tell you me of knowing? Now I am in haste, sir, I do not know, and I will not know, and I scorn to know, and yet, now I think on’t, I will, and do know as well as another; you must have a mark for your thing here, and eight-pence for the box; I could have saved two-pence in that, an I had brought it myself; but here’s fourteen shillings for you. Good Lord, how long your little wife stays! pray God, Solomon, your clerk, be not looking in the wrong box, master proctor.
Lit. Good i’faith! no, I warrant you Solomon is wiser than so, sir.
Waspe. Fie, fie, fie, by your leave, master Littlewit, this is scurvy, idle, foolish, and abominable, with all my heart; I do not like it.