And this the true elixir; it hath boil’d
Since midnight for you. ’Tis the quintessence
Of five cocks of the game, ten dozen of sparrows,
Knuckles of veal, potato-roots and marrow,
Coral and ambergris. Were you two years older
And I had a wife, or gamesome mistress,
I durst trust you with neither. You need not bait
After this, I warrant you, though your journey’s long;
You may ride on the strength of this till tomorrow morning.
Allworth: Your courtesies overwhelm me: I much grieve