Pac. As long as he can without feeding: did'st thou read of the miraculous Maid in Flanders?
Laz. No, nor of any Maid else; for the miracle of Virgi[n]ity now-a-days ceases, e'r the Virgin can read Virginity?
Pac. She that liv'd three years without any other sustenance, than the smell of a Rose.
Laz. I heard of her Signior, but they say her guts shrunk all into Lute-strings, and her neather-parts cling'd together like a Serpents Tail, so that though she continued a woman still above the girdle, beneath yet she was monster.
Pac. So are most women, believe it.
Laz. Nay all women Signior, that can live only upon the smell of a Rose.
Pac. No part of the History is fabulous.
Laz. I think rather no part of the Fable is Historical: but for all this, Sir, my rebellious stomach will not let me be immortal: I will be as immortal, as mortal hunger will suffer: put me to a certain stint Sir, allow me but a red herring a day.
Pac. O' de dios: wouldst thou be gluttonous in thy delicacies?
Laz. He that eats nothing but a red herring a day, shall ne'r be broil'd for the devil's rasher: a Pilchard, Signior, a Surdiny, an Olive, that I may be a Philosopher first, and immortal after.