[Gives Cokes the box.
Cokes. Why, your friend, and Bartholomew; an you be so contumacious.
Quar. What mean you, Numps?
[Takes Waspe aside as he is going out.
Waspe. I’ll not be guilty, I, gentlemen.
Mrs. Over. You will not let him go, brother, and lose him?
Cokes. Who can hold that will away? I had rather lose him than the Fair, I wusse.
Waspe. You do not know the inconvenience, gentlemen, you persuade to, nor what trouble I have with him in these humours. If he go to the Fair, he will buy of every thing to a baby there; and household stuff for that too. If a leg or an arm on him did not grow on, he would lose it in the press. Pray heaven I bring him off with one stone! And then he is such a ravener after fruit!—you will not believe what a coil I had t’other day to compound a business between a Cather’nepear woman, and him, about snatching: ’tis intolerable, gentlemen.
Winw. O, but you must not leave him now to these hazards, Numps.
Waspe. Nay, he knows too well I will not leave him, and that makes him presume: Well, sir, will you go now? if you have such an itch in your feet, to foot it to the Fair, why do you stop, am I [o’] your tarriers? go, will you go, sir? why do you not go?