Piper.—And spare my pains, says’t thou—I’ll do mine office
As long as breath within my body is.
Dugald.—Then mercy on us all! If wind thou mean’st,
There is within that sturdy trunk of thine,
Old as it is, a still exhaustless store.
A Lapland witch’s bag could scarcely match it.
Thou could’st, I doubt not, belly out the sails
Of a three-masted vessel with thy mouth;
But be thy mercy equal to thy might,
I pray thee now give o’er, in faith the Earl