SCAR. What is the reason, tell us, Friar?
FRIAR. And would ye have me be no liar?
LIT. JOHN. No. God defend that you should lie:
A churchman be a liar?—fie!
FRIAR. Then, by this hallow'd crucifix,
The holy water and the pix,
It greatly at my stomach sticks,
That all this day we had no gues',[226]
And have of meat so many a mess.
MUCH brings out ELY, like a countryman with a basket.
MUCH. Well, and ye be but a market, ye are but a market-man.
ELY. I am sure, sir, I do you no hurt, do I?
SCAR. We shall have company, no doubt:
My fellow Much hath found one out.
FRIAR. A fox, a fox! as I am friar,
Much is well worthy of good hire.
LIT. JOHN. Say, Friar, soothly, know'st thou him!