T. Small. I hope no less,
You are welcome, sister, into these our parts,
As I may say.
Fran. Thanks, gentle brother.
W. Small. Come now to Ram Alley.
There shalt thou lie,
Till I provide a priest.
Bout. O villany!
I think he will gull his whole generation;
I must make one, since 'tis so well begun:
I'll not forsake him, till his hopes be won. [Exeunt.
Enter Throat and two Citizens.
Throat. Then y' are friends?
Both. We are, so please your worship.
Throat. 'Tis well, I am glad: keep your money, for law
Is like a butler's box:[357] while you two strive,
That picks up all your money. You are friends?
Both. We are, so please you, perfect friends.
Throat. Why so.
Now to the next tap-house; there drink down this,
And by the operation of the third pot
Quarrel again, and come to me for law: [Aside.
Fare you well.