Slicer. How grave the rogue was!
Shape. I'll do't as strictly as mine enemy.
Sir T. I cannot hold: I'll break in as I am,
And take my vengeance whilst my fury's hot. [Above.
Mean. Repress it, sir, awhile; h' hath but begun.
[Above.
Shape. Then thus he drawls it out, I do confess
I've been addicted to frugality.
Son, do not mince: pray, call it covetousness.
Imprimis, It hath ever been my custom
To ride beyond an inn to save my horse-meat.
Item, When once I had done so, and found
No entertainment, I beguil'd the children
Of their parch'd peas: my man being left to that
We make the emblem of mortality.
What? Grass, you mean? Or sweet hay, which you please.
Hear. Methinks this is truly coming to a reckoning.
He doth account for's sins with Item so.
Shape. Item, I've often bought a Cheapside custard,
And so refresh'd my soul under my cloak,
As I did walk the streets. Cloaking of sins,
Although they be but eating sins, I do
Pronounce most dangerous. I find this so,
I'd almost lost mine eyes by't, being justled.
Slicer. O thou rich soul of roguery!
Shape. Moreover,
I once sung Psalms with servants, where I lodg'd,
And took part with 'em in their lovely reliques;
Truly my soul did lust, they were temptations.
What! sing that you might eat? It is the sin
O' th' brethren, son; but that their reliques are
Whole widows' houses.