Prate. What! Precedent, I say!
Pre. [Within.] Anon, anon, sir.
Prate. Why, when, I say? the villain's belly is like a bottomless pit—ever filling, and yet empty; at your leisure, sir.
Enter Precedent, Prate's man, eating.
Pre. I can make no more haste than my teeth will give me leave.
Prate. Well, sir, get you without the town to the place of the combat, and provide me for my wife some good standing to see the conflict.
Pre. How, master, how! must I provide a good standing for you for my mistress? truly, master, I think a marrow-bone pie, candied eringoes, preserved dates, marmalade of cantharides, were much better harbingers; cock-sparrow stewed, doves' brains, or swans' pizzles, are very provocative; roasted potatoes[148] or boiled skirrets[149] are your only lofty dishes; methinks these should fit you better than I can do.
Prate. What's this, what's this? I say, provide me a standing for my wife upon a scaffold.
Pre. And truly, master, I think a private chamber were better.
Prate. I grant you—if there were a chamber convenient.