Enob. Mine, and most of our Fortunes to night, shall be drunke to bed
Iras. There's a Palme presages Chastity, if nothing els
Char. E'ne as the o're-flowing Nylus presageth Famine
Iras. Go you wilde Bedfellow, you cannot Soothsay
Char. Nay, if an oyly Palme bee not a fruitfull Prognostication, I cannot scratch mine eare. Prythee tel her but a worky day Fortune
Sooth. Your Fortunes are alike
Iras. But how, but how, giue me particulars
Sooth. I haue said
Iras. Am I not an inch of Fortune better then she?
Char. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better
then I: where would you choose it
Iras. Not in my Husbands nose