Cand. You’ll give no more, you say? I cannot take it.
Mis. H. Truly I’ll give no more.
Cand. It must not fetch it.
What would you have, sweet gentlemen.
Ast. Nay, here’s the customer.
[Exeunt Bots and Mistress Horseleech.
Lod. The garden-house, you say? we’ll bolt[275] out your roguery.
Cand. I will but lay these parcels by—my men
Are all at the custom house unloading wares,
If cambric you would deal in, there’s the best,
All Milan cannot sample it.
Lod. Do your hear it? one, two, three,—’Sfoot, there came in four gallants! Sure your wife is slipt up, and the fourth man, I hold my life, is grafting your warden tree.[276]
Cand. Ha, ha, ha! you gentlemen are full of jest.
If she be up, she’s gone some wares to show;
I have above as good wares as below.