Cud. The devil you can! you have read Æsop’s fables, then; I have played one of your parts then,—the dog that catched at the shadow in the water. Pray you, let me catechise you a little; what might one call your name, dog?
Dog. My dame calls me Tom.
Cud. ’Tis well, and she may call me Ass; so there’s an whole one betwixt us, Tom-Ass: she said I should follow you, indeed. Well, Tom, give me thy fist, we are friends; you shall be mine ingle:[435] I love you; but I pray you let’s have no more of these ducking devices.
Dog. Not, if you love me. Dogs love where they are beloved; cherish me, and I’ll do anything for thee.
Cud. Well, you shall have jowls and livers; I have butchers to my friends that shall bestow ’em: and I will keep crusts and bones for you, if you’ll be a kind dog, Tom.
Dog. Any thing; I’ll help thee to thy love.
Cud. Wilt thou? that promise shall cost me a brown loaf, though I steal it out of my father’s cupboard: you’ll eat stolen goods, Tom, will you not?
Dog. O, best of all; the sweetest bits those.
Cud. You shall not starve, Ningle[436] Tom, believe that: if you love fish, I’ll help you to maids and soles; I’m acquainted with a fishmonger.
Dog. Maids and soles? O, sweet bits! banqueting stuff those.