“I’ll send some forty thousand unto Paul’s:
Build a cathedral next in Banbury:
Give organs to each parish in the kingdom.”
Zeal-of-the-land is thus inquired of by Winwife:
“What call you the reverend elder you told me of, your Banbury man?
Littlewit. Rabbi Busy, sir: he is more than an elder, he is a prophet, sir.
Quarlous. O, I know him! a baker, is he not?
Littlewit. He was a baker, sir, but he does dream now, and see visions: he has given over his trade.
Quarlous. I remember that, too: out of a scruple that he took, in spiced conscience, those cakes he made were served to bridales, maypoles, morrices, and such profane feasts and meetings. His christian name is Zeal-of-the-land?
Littlewit. Yes, sir; Zeal-of-the-land Busy.
Winwife. How! what a name’s there!
Littlewit. O, they all have such names, sir: he was witness for Win here—they will not be called godfathers—and named her Win-the-fight: you thought her name had been Winnifred, did you not?