Bayes. Yes, I knew this would please you; for the chief art in poetry is to elevate your expectation, and then bring you off some extraordinary way.
Enter Drawcansir.
K. Phys. What man is this that dares disturb our feast?
Draw. He that dares drink, and for that drink dares die;
And knowing this, dares yet drink on, am I.[41]
Johns. That is, Mr. Bayes, as much as to say, that though he would rather die than not drink, yet he would fain drink for all that too.
Bayes. Right; that's the conceit on't.
Johns. 'Tis a marvellous good one, I swear.
Bayes. Now, there are some critics that have advis'd me to put out the second dare, and print must in the place on't;[42] but, egad, I think 'tis better thus a great deal.
Johns. Whoo! a thousand times.