Wild. A cuff? give me the candle,
Cuffes wonot cover me—I smell the knavery.
Tob. Is't come to a cuff? my whole suit turned to a button?
Wild. Now am I as cold again as though 'twere Christmas;
Cold with my fear, I'll never ring by the ear more.
To. My new cloaths vanish'd?
Wild. All my cloaths Toby.
Ring. Here's none.
Tob. Not one of my dragons wings left to adorn me,
Have I muted all my feathers?
Wild. Cheated by the ear; a plot to put out the candle;
I could be mad; my chain, my rings, the gold, the gold.
Tob. The cold, the cold I cry, and I cry truly,
Not one sleeve, nor a cape of a cloak to warm me.
Wild. What miserable fools were we!