Grimes. He meanes of drunkards.
[Lovell grunts.
Suc. Ha! Cinielaro[?] an ambuscado! see, whos that lyes there pardue[79]? fort of Mars! my wroth shall eate him up.
Grimes. Soe, soe, now softely letts to him: ha, alreadie[80] dead drunke, as I am vertuous. Assist me gent[lemen]; Timothy, hast thou thy Salvatorie about thee.
Tim. Yes, heere, here.[81]
Grimes. Quick, quick; make some plasters and clapp em on his face: here, bind this napkin about his hand; who has a garter, lets see, to bind it up?
Suc. Some blood, my sonn of Mercury, were neceseary for consummation of the jest.
Crac. And here, Grimes, ty this cloath about his head: oh, for some blood!
Grimes. Here, I have prickt my finger.
Tim. Let you and I, Mr. Crackby, goe to buffitts for a bloody nose.