SUMNER.
O, I am almost choked! I am almost choked!
HARPOOLE. Who’s within there? will you shame my Lord? is there no beer in the house? Butler! I say.
[Enter Butler.]
BUTLER.
Here, here.
HARPOOLE.
Give him Beer.
[He drinks.]
There; tough old sheepskin’s bare, dry meat.
SUMNER.
O sir, let me go no further; I’ll eat my word.
HARPOOLE. Yea, marry, sit! so I mean: you shall eat more than your own word, for I’ll make you eat all the words in the process. Why, you drab monger, cannot the secrets of all the wenches in a shire serve your turn, but you must come hither with a citation? with a pox! I’ll cite you. [He has then done.] A cup of sack for the Sumner.
BUTLER.
Here, sir, here.