Shad. No, sweet seignior, but you have bid the king and his peers to dinner, and he has commanded that no woodmonger sell you a stick of wood, and that no collier shall cozn you of your measure, but must tie up the mouth of their sacks, lest their coals kindle your choler.
Andel. Is’t possible? is’t true, or hast thou learnt of the English gallants to gull?
Shad. He’s a gull that would be taught by such gulls.
Andel. Not a stick of wood? Some child of envy has buzzed this stratagem into the king’s ear, of purpose to disgrace me. I have invited his majesty, and though it cost me a million, I’ll feast him. Shadow, thou shalt hire a hundred or two of carts, with them post to all the grocers in London, buy up all the cinnamon, cloves, nutmegs, liquorice and all other spices, that have any strong heart, and with them make fires to prepare our cookery.
Ere Fortunatus’ son look red with shame,
He’ll dress a king’s feast in a spicèd flame.
Shad. This device, sir, will be somewhat akin to Lady Pride, ’twill ask cost.
Andel. Fetch twenty porters, I’ll lade all with gold.
Shad. First, master, fill these bags.
Andel. Come then, hold up. How now? tricks, new crotchets, Madame Fortune? Dry as an eel-skin? Shadow, take thou my gold out.