Because I knew you are my friend, hide it I cold not, doubtles.
Ye know your harm, see ye be wise about your owne busines!
So fare ye well.[686]
Chat. Nay, soft, Diccon, and drynke! What, Doll, I say!
Bringe here a cup of the best ale; lets see, come quicly a waye! 80
The ii Acte. The iii Sceane. C
Hodge. Diccon.
Diccon. Ye see, masters, that one end tapt of this my short devise!
Now must we broche thot[h]er to, before the smoke arise;
And by the time they have a while run, I trust ye need not crave it.