Gum. Ay, ay, sir, we take it so; you must think, if it had been in earnest, though it had been the best man i' th' land, he had kicked his last.
Bud. Had he so, slave?
Gum. Yes, when he had done kicking.
Dit. Good Budget, be pacified, and we'll recompense the injury we have done you with our forwardness to promote your desires and translation out of the circle of love into the wedding-ring.
Bud. Thanks, kind Ditty; walk along with me, and I will show thee the sweet empress of my heart. I am appeased. [Exeunt.
SCENE VII.
Enter Bristle and Jenniting.
Bris. Yes, truly, I am one of the gentle craft, though I have got somewhat of the tailor's trade too; some hangers on—fellow-travellers, that I cannot be rid of, though, are still upon my back: they put me to foul shifts sometimes.
Jen. Then you know Crispianus?
Bris. Yes, he is a saint amongst us, of whose votaries I am one, that each Monday morning liquor his altar with ale, and grease it with bacon.