Pen. I take no money Gentlemen, that's base,
I trade in meat, a Merchants wife will cost ye
A glorious Capon; a great shoulder of Mutton;
And a Tart as big as a Conjurers Circle.
3 Gent. That's cheap enough.
1 Gent. And what a Haberdashers?
Pen. Worse meat will serve for her, a great Goose-Pie,
But you must send it out o' th' Countrey to me,
It will not do else: with a piece of Bacon,
And if you can, a pot of Butter with it.
2 Gent. Now do I aim at horse-flesh: what a Parsons?
Pen. A Tithe-Pig has no fellow, if I fetch her,
If she be Puritane, Plumb-porridge does it,
And a fat loin of Veal, well sauc'd and roasted.
2 Gent. We'll meet one night, and thou shalt have all these;
O' that condition we may have the wenches
A dainty rascal.
Pen. When your stomachs serve ye,
(For mine is ever ready) I'll supply ye.
1 Gent. Farewel, and there's to fill thy paunch.
Pen. Brave Gentleman.