As I grow riper, more: three hundred now, sir,
To shew my love to learning, and my Master,
My diet I'le defray too, without trouble.
Lop.
Note but his mind to learning.
Bar.
I do strangely, yes, and I like it too, thanks to his mony.
Die.
Would he would live with me, and learn to dig too.
Lop.