Gos. How?
Hem. Nay: I'me not certain of that; of this I am, If it once buy, and sell, its Gentry is gone.
Gos. Ha, ha.
Hem. You are angry, though ye laugh.
Gos. No, now 'tis pity
Of your poor argument. Do not you, the Lords
Of Land (if you be any) sell the grass,
The Corn, the Straw, the Milk, the Cheese?
Van. And Butter: Remember Butter; do not leave out Butter.
Gos. The Beefs and Muttons that your grounds are stor'd with? Swine, with the very mast, beside the Woods?
Hem. No, for those sordid uses we have Tenants, Or else our Bailiffs.
Gos. Have not we, Sir, Chap-men,
And Factors, then to answer these? your honour
Fetch'd from the Heralds ABC, and said over
With your Court faces, once an hour, shall never
Make me mistake my self. Do not your Lawyers
Sell all their practice, as your Priests their prayers?
What is not bought, and sold? The company
That you had last, what had you for't, i'faith?
Hem. You now grow sawcy.