Isa. Pr'ythee be not so rude, Trice.
Trice. Huswife Constance, I'll have you into my larder, and shew you my provision: I have cockles, dainty fat cockles, that came in the night; if they had seen the day, I would not have given a fart for 'em. I would the king had 'em.
Const. He has as good, I warrant you.
Trice. Nay, that's a lie. I could sit and cry for him sometimes; he does not know what 'tis to eat a good meal in a whole year. His cooks are asses: I have a delicate dish of ruffs to dinner, sirrah.
Const. To dinner!
Trice. To dinner! why by supper they had been past their prime. I'll tell thee the story of 'em: I have a friend—
Enter Servant.
Serv. Sir, dinner's upon the table.
Trice. Well, well; I have a friend, as I told you—
Serv. Dinner stays, sir: 'tis dinner that stays: Sure he will hear now.