Well. Why, their whores strike 'em with cans and glasses, and quart-pots: if they have nothing by 'em, they strike 'em with the pox, and you know that will lay one's nose as flat as a basket-hilt dagger.
[Aside.]
Fee. Well, let me alone.
[Aside.]
Tear. This bully dares not drink.
Fee. Dare I not, sir?
Well. Well said; speak to him, man.
Fee. You had best try me, sir.
Spill. We four will drink four healths to four of the seven deadly sins, pride, drunkenness, wrath, and lechery.
Fee. I'll pledge 'em, and I thank you; I know 'em all. Here's one.
Whore. Which of the sins?
Fee. By my troth, even to pride.