I am his cut-throat, you are ...
Otti. Here 's the wine;
I brought it when we left the house above,
And glasses too—wine of both sorts. Black? White then?
Seb. But am not I his cut-throat? What are you?
Otti. There trudges on his business from the Duomo
Benet the Capuchin, with his brown hood
And bare feet; always in one place at church,
Close under the stone wall by the south entry.
I used to take him for a brown cold piece