Rog. Why that of down and arise or the falling trade.
Bell. I’ll fall with you by and by.
Rog. If you do I know who shall smart for’t:
Troth, mistress, what do I look like now?
Bell. Like as you are; a panderly sixpenny rascal.
Rog. I may thank you for that: in faith I look like an old proverb, “Hold the candle before the devil.”
Bell. Ud’s life, I’ll stick my knife in your guts an you prate to me so!—What? [Sings.
Well met, pug, the pearl of beauty: umh, umh.
How now, Sir Knave? you forget your duty, umh, umh,
Marrymuff,[148] sir, are you grown so dainty; fa, la, la, leera, la.
Is it you, sir? the worst of twenty, fa, la, la, leera, la.
Pox on you, how dost thou hold my glass?
Rog. Why, as I hold your door: with my fingers.