Har. Come, no Ceremony among Friends. Bon. fro.
Scar. Sallad mal adjuste; here's neither Fat nor Lean.
Har. O Mr. Doctor, neither Fat nor Lean in a Sallad.
Scar. Neither Oyl, nor Vinegar.
Har. Oh! I'll fetch you that presently.
[Harlequin fetches a Chamber-pot of Piss, and a Lamp of Oyl, and pours on the Sallad.
Scar. O thy Sallad is nothing but Thistles and Netles; and thy Oyl stinks worse than Arsefetito.
Har. Bread and Wine be our Fare. Ha! the Bread's alive. [Bread stirs.
Scar. Or the Devil's in't. Hey! again. [Bread sinks.
Har. My Belly's as empty as a Beggar's Purse.