Cand. I ha’ reckonings to cast up, good Master Bots.
Bots. This will make you cast ’em up better.
Lod. Why does your hand shake so?
Cand. The palsy, signor, danceth in my blood.
Bots. Pipe with a pox, sir, then, or I’ll make your blood dance—
Cand. Hold, hold, good Master Bots, I drink. [Kneels.[301]
Ast., Lod., &c. To whom?
Cand. To the old countess there. [Drinks.
Mis. H. To me, old boy? this is he that never drunk wine! Once again to’t.