“I’ve dished him,” said Ben Jonson.
“’Tis Condell come to raise our wages,” said Robin Armin, with a grin.
“Thou’lt raise more hopes than wages, Rob,” said Tarlton, mockingly.
“It is a boy,” the waiter said, “who saith that he must see thee, master, on his life.”
The quiet man arose.
“Sit down, Will,” said Greene; “he’ll pick thy pocket with a doleful lie.”
“There’s nothing in it, Tom, to pick.”
“Then give him no more than half,” said Armin, soberly, “lest he squander it!”
“He saith he comes from Stratford town,” the boy went on.
“Then tell him to go back again,” said Master Ben Jonson; “we’ve sucked the sweet from Stratford town—be off with his seedy dregs!”