Alex. Some wine.
Jar. Here is wine for you, sir.
Ran. Randalls will not be outpraved, I warrant hur.
Alex. Here, widow.
Wid. I thank you too, sir.
Ran. Sounds, some metheglins here.
Wid. What does he call for?
Jar. Here are some eggs for you, sir.
Ran. Eggs, man! some metheglins, the wine of Wales.
Jar. Troth, sir, here's none i' th' house: pray, make a virtue of necessity, and drink to her in this glass of claret.