Wid. And are you grieved at that?
John. No, but my friends are.
Wid. What friends are grieved?
John. My guts.
Wid. So, it seems, you begun clown——
John. Yes, and shall conclude coxcomb, and I be fed with herring-bones. 'Sfoot, I say no more; but if we do want as much bread of our daily allowance as would dine a sparrow, or as much drink as would fox a fly,[36] I know what I know.
Wid. And what do you know, sir?
John. Why, that there goes but a pair of shears[37] between a promoter and a knave; if you know more, take your choice of either.
Wid. 'Tis well; set on dinner.
Enter Jarvis with a rabbit in one hand and a dish of eggs in another, and the Maid.