Enter a Servant, as passing by.
And so will I. 'St! 'st!—good friend, d' y' hear?
Here is a letter, friend, to Master Meanwell.
Bag. Any reversions yet? Nothing transmiss'd?
Rhyme. No gleanings, James? No trencher-analects?[194]
Ser. Parley a little with your stomachs, sirs.
Catch. There's nothing so ridiculous as the hungry:
A fasting man is a good jest at any time.
Ser. There is a gentleman without, that will'd me
To ask if you'll admit of him among you:
He can't endure to be in good company.
Catch. You're merry, James. Yes, by all means, good James.
Admit, quoth he! What else? Pray, send him in. [Exit Servant.
Let's be resolv'd to fall out now; then he
Shall have the glory to compose the quarrel
By a good dozen of pacifical beer.
Rhyme. Bag. Agreed, agreed.
Chris. My coat allows no quarrel.