Alon. Pr’ythee, peace.
Sebas. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Anto. The visitor[395-2] will not give him o’er so.
Sebas. Look, he’s winding up the watch of his wit; by-and-by it will strike.
Gonza. Sir,—
Sebas. One:—tell.[395-3]
Gonza.—When every grief is entertained that’s offer’d,
Comes to the entertainer—
Sebas. A dollar.
Gonza. Dolour[395-4] comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you purposed.
Sebas. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.