Cand. With much ado the poison is got down,
Though I can scarce get up; never before
Drank I a whore’s health, nor will never more.
Re-enter Orlando with lawns.
Mat. Hast been at gallows?
Orl. Yes, sir, for I make account to suffer to day.
Mat. Look, signor; here’s the commodity.
Cand. Your price?
Mat. Thus.[302]
Cand. No: too dear: thus.
Mat. No: O fie, you must fly higher: yet take ’em home, trifles shall not make us quarrel, we’ll agree, you shall have them, and a pennyworth; I’ll fetch money at your shop.
Cand. Be it so, good signor, send me going.