Witty. Father,
To tell you truth, these are no ordinary
Musicians, they expect a bounty
Above their punctual desert.
Old K. A —— on your Punks, and their deserts too.
Am I not cheated all this while think you?
Is not your pate in this?
Witty. If you be cheated,
You are not to be indicted for your own goods,
Here you trifle time to market your bounty
And make it base, when it must needs be free
For ought I can perceive.
Old K. Will you know the lowest price, Sir?
Witty. That I will Sir, with all my heart.
Old K. Unless I was discover'd, and they now fled
Home agen for fear, I am absolutely beguil'd,
That's the best can be hop'd for.
Witty. Faith 'tis somewhat too dear yet, Gentlemen.
Ruin. There's not a Denier to be bated, Sir.
Old K. Now Sir, how dear is it?
Witty. Bate but the t'other ten pound?