Brass. I insist.
Dick. My old friend!
Brass. Dick Amlet [raising his voice] I insist.
Dick. Ah, the cormorant [Aside].—Well, ’tis thine: thou’lt never thrive with it.
Brass. When I find it begins to do me mischief, I’ll give it you again. But I must have a wedding suit.
Dick. Well.
Brass. A stock of linen.
Dick. Enough.
Brass. Not yet——a silver-hilted sword.
Dick. Well, thou shalt have that too. Now thou hast every thing.