Let them be as merry now, as ye can desire:
With turning of a hand our mirth lieth in the mire.
I cannot skill of such changeable mettle,
There is nothing with them but, In dock, out nettle.[98]
D. Dough. Whether is it better that I speak to him first,
Or he first to me? It is good to cast the worst.
If I begin first, he will smell all my purpose:
Otherwise I shall not need anything to disclose. [Aside.
Truepenny. What boy have we yonder? I will see what he is.
D. Dough. He cometh to me. It is hereabout, i-wis. [Aside.