Trick. You are sure; have not I said it?—You had best make Mr Woodall a thief, madam.
Pleas. I make him nothing, madam: but the thief in my dream was like Mr Woodall; and that thief may have made Mr Limberham something.
Limb. Nay, Mr Woodall is no thief, that's certain; but if a thief should be turned to Mr Woodall, that may be something.
Trick. Then I'll fetch out the jewels: will that satisfy you?
Brain. That shall satisfy him.
Limb. Yes, that shall satisfy me.
Pleas. Then you are a predestinated fool, and somewhat worse, that shall be nameless. Do you not see how grossly she abuses you? my life on't, there's somebody within, and she knows it; otherwise she would suffer you to bring out the jewels.
Limb. Nay, I am no predestinated fool; and therefore, Pug, give way.
103 Trick. I will not satisfy your humour.
Limb. Then I will satisfy it myself: for my generous blood is up, and I'll force my entrance.