Whetstone.
Give you it all!
Violet.
All, everything.
Whetstone.
Give you it all! That’s practical. Who’d have thought it in one so young? Would you outwit me? Would you outmatch me? Would you ruin me?
Violet.
Thou art a gentle stupid. I only meant, give me a description of all,—thy catalogue of all thou hast. Thy lips label better thy goods than thy love.
Whetstone.
What’s that?