Ant. Why look ye, Gentlemen; thus I am us'd still,
I can get nothing that I want.
1 Gent. Leave these things,
And let him open ye.
Ant. D'ye hear, Surgeon?
Send for the Musick, let me have some pleasure
To entertain my friends, besides your Sallads,
Your green salves, and your searches, and some Wine too,
That I may only smell to it; or by this light
I'll dye upon thy hand, and spoil thy custome.
1 Gent. Let him have Musick.
Enter Rowl. with Wine.
Sur. 'Tis in the house, and ready,
If he will ask no more but Wine— [Musick.
2 Gent. He shall not drink it.
Sur. Will these things please ye?
Ant. Yes, and let 'em sing
John Dorrie.
2 Gent. 'Tis too long.