Bell. Nay, God’s my pity, what an ass is that citizen to lend money to a lord!
Enter Matheo and Hippolito; Hippolito saluting the company, as a stranger, walks off.[158] Roger comes in sadly behind them, with a pottle pot, and stands aloof off.
Mat. Save you, gallants. Signor Fluello, exceedingly well met, as I may say.
Flu. Signor Matheo, exceedingly well met too, as I may say.
Mat. And how fares my little pretty mistress?
Bell. Ee’n as my little pretty servant; sees three court dishes before her, and not one good bit in them:—How now? why the devil standest thou so? Art in a trance?
Rog. Yes, forsooth.
Bell. Why dost not fill out their wine?
Rog. Forsooth, ’tis filled out already: all the wine that the signors have bestowed upon you is cast away; a porter ran a little at me, and so faced me down that I had not a drop.