[Aside.] Poor in flesh and poorer in spirit. [Aloud.] Go to, man, I don’t ask you for trust. From now on the drink of the day shall be paid in the day. What can you want more?
Host:
Ay, that were good enough if——
Chettle:
Oh! Your “if” ’s a scurvy coward, a water-drinker dripping with doubts; no host for a generous tavern. Hark ye, ye don’t send in the reckoning before the meal; but an hour after. Make the hour three and ye shall have your money. Send me the drawer, man, and before night ye shall be paid. Was ever such an unbelieving sinner!
Host:
Sinner, I may be, Master Chettle; but unbelieving, no. I have trusted you these ten years, Master Chettle, and the reckoning grows; every year it grows. That’s not want of faith, Master Chettle.
Chettle:
Ha, ha! Ye have me there: quick wits, Master Fry, and the riposto tickles. There, I’m glad it’s settled. Send me the drawer and you shall have your money to-night. I never could haggle with a man of mind. And I bring you custom, man, more custom than any dozen, and such custom, the wits of London, the heads o’ the world!
Host: