FIRST MERCHANT. There is this crack in you—two hundred crowns.
A PEASANT. That's plenty for a rogue.
ANOTHER PEASANT. I'd give him nothing.
SHEMUS. You'll get no more—so take what's offered you.
(A general murmur, during which the MIDDLE-AGED-MAN takes money, and slips into background, where he sinks on to a seat.)
FIRST MERCHANT. Has no one got a better soul than that? If only for the credit of your parishes, Traffic with us.
A WOMAN. What will you give for mine?
FIRST MERCHANT (reading in book) "Soft, handsome, and still young "—not much, I think." It's certain that the man she's married to Knows nothing of what's hidden in the jar Between the hour-glass and the pepper-pot."
THE WOMAN. The scandalous book.
FIRST MERCHANT. "Nor how when he's away At the horse fair the hand that wrote what's hid Will tap three times upon the window-pane."