Then coming home, and sitting in my shop
With apron blue, Death came unto my stall
To cheapen aquavitæ, but ere I
Could take the bottle down, and fill a taste,
Death caught a pound of pepper in his hand,
And sprinkled all my face and body o'er,
And in an instant vanishéd away.
Cit. 'Tis a pretty fiction, i'faith.
Ralph. Then took I up my bow and shaft in hand,
And walkéd in Moorfields to cool myself,