Tim. Hum! you did not buy this spare vice of a lean courtier, did ye?
Smith. No, sir, of a fat cook, that 'strained[8] of a smith for's rent.
Sim. O hard-hearted man of grease!
Tim. Nay, nay, Sim, we must do't sometimes.
Blood. Ha, thrifty whoreson!
Tim. And what would serve your turn, goodman File?
Smith. A noble, sir.
Tim. What! upon a spare vice to lend a noble?
Sim. Why, sir, for ten groats you may make yourself drunk, and so buy a vice outright for half the money.
Tim. That is a noble vice, I assure you.