Echo.—You lie.
Glutton.—May I not, Echo, eat my fill.
Echo.—Ill.
Glutton.—Will it hurt me if I drink too much?
Echo.—Much.
Glutton.—Thou mock'st me nymph, I'll not believe it.
Echo.—Believe it.
Glutton.—Dost thou condemn then what I do?
Echo.—I do.
Glutton.—Is it that which brings infirmities?