"'Tis liquor that will find out Sutcliff's wit,
Lie where he will, and make him write worse yet."
ACT IV., SCENE I.
Credulous, Hearsay, Slicer.
Cre. My name's not Tribulation,
Nor holy Ananias:
I was baptiz'd in fashion,
Our vicar did hold bias.
Hear. What! how now, Master Credulous? so merry?
Cre. Come, let's be mad: by yea and nay, my son
Shall have the Turkish monarchy; he shall
Have it directly. The twelve companies
Shall be his kickshaws.
Hear. Bashaws, sir, you mean.
Cre. Well, sir, what if I do? Andrew the Great Turk?
I would I were a pepper-corn,[202] if that
It sounds not well. Does't not?
Slicer. Yes, very well.