Waspe. Od’s so, you have the selling of him! What are they, will they be bought for love or money?
Trash. No indeed, sir.
Waspe. For what then, victuals?
Trash. He scorns victuals, sir; he has bread and butter at home, thanks be to God! and yet he will do more for a good meal, if the toy take him in the belly; marry then they must not set him at lower ends, if they do, he’ll go away, though he fast; but put him a-top o’ the table, where his place is, and he’ll do you forty fine things. He has not been sent for, and sought out for nothing, at your great city-suppers, to put down Coriat and Cokely, and been laughed at for his labour; he’ll play you all the puppets in the town over, and the players, every company, and his own company too; he spares nobody.
Cokes. I’faith?
Trash. He was the first, sir, that ever baited the fellow in the bear’s skin, an’t like your worship: no dog ever came near him since. And for fine motions!
Cokes. Is he good at those too? can he set out a masque, trow?
Trash. O lord, master! sought to far and near for his inventions; and he engrosses all, he makes all the puppets in the Fair.
Cokes. Dost thou, in troth, old velvet jerkin? give me thy hand.
Trash. Nay, sir, you shall see him in his velvet jerkin, and a scarf too at night, when you hear him interpret master Littlewit’s motion.