Miles. Faith, 'tis a place I have desired long to see: have you not good tippling-houses there? may not a man have a lusty fire there, a pot of good ale, a pair[235] of cards, a swinging piece of chalk, and a brown toast that will clap a white waistcoat on a cup of good drink?
Dev. All this you may have there.
Miles. You are for me, friend, and I am for you. But I pray you, may I not have an office there?
Dev. Yes, a thousand: what would'st thou be?
Miles. By my troth, sir, in a place where I may profit myself. I know hell is a hot place, and men are marvellous dry, and much drink is spent there; I would be a tapster.
Dev. Thou shalt.
Miles. There's nothing lets me from going with you, but that 'tis a long journey, and I have never a horse.
Dev. Thou shalt ride on my back.
Miles. Now surely here's a courteous devil, that, for to pleasure his friend, will not stick to make a jade of himself.—But I pray you, goodman friend, let me move a question to you.
Dev. What's that?