Rose. Do you inform?
Quart. I hear one o' th' sheriffs
Paid for the boiling of a carp a mark.
Sale. Most unheard-of exactions!
Rose. Yet surely, captain,
No man had cheaper reckonings than yourself
And Master Salewit here.
Quart. How cheap?
Rose. I say
No more, good captain; not to pay is cheap,
A man would think.
Quart. Sir, don't you reckon air,
And make it dear to breathe in your house, and put
The nose to charges?
Rose. Right; perfum'd air, captain.
Quart. Is not the standing of the salt an item,
And placing of the bread?
Rose. A new way, captain.