Burbage:
At this rate, Chettle, you’ll make us all late. Come, boys, come, there’s much to do.
Chettle:
’Tis a churl would leave a good dinner, but no one would leave good talk but a chough, and that was good, wasn’t it, Ben?
Jonson:
Like your dinners, Chettle; more to be praised for quantity than quality, but still——
Chettle:
Have with you, lads: I’ve a Court cloak in white sarsenet; the colour of fear and of conscience, it takes a stain in every weather and from every touch! Ha! ha! ha!
[Exit all save Jonson, who calls the drawer by stamping on the floor.]