Tob. Verily Nurse, I have cry'd so much
For my young Mistriss, that is mortified,
That if I have not more sack to support me,
I shall even sleep: heiho, for another flagon;
These Burials, and Christnings are the mournful[st] matters,
And they ask more drink.
Nur. Drink to a sad heart's needful.
To. Mine's ever sad, for I am ever dry Nurse.
Nur. Methinks the light burns blew, I prethee snuff it,
There's a thief in't I think.
To. There may be one near it.
Nur. What's that that moves there, ith' name of——Nicholas?
That thing that walks.
T[o]. Would I had a Ladder to behold it,
Mercy upon me, the Ghost of one oth'Guard sure,
'Tis the devil by his clawes, he smels of Brimstone,
Sure he farts fire, what an Earth-quake I have in me;
Out with thy Prayer-book Nurse.
Nur. It fell ith' the frying pan, and the Cat's eat it.
Tob. I have no power to pray, it grows still longer,
'Tis Steeple high now, and it sayls away Nurse.
Lets call the butler up, for he speaks Latine,
And that will daunt the devil: I am blasted,
My belly's grown to nothing.
Nu. Fye, fye, Tobie. [Exit.