_Tim_. to _Trice_. But then you must speak for me, Mr Trice:
and you too, my lord.

_Non_. If you deny't again, I'll beat you; look to't, boy.

_Trice_. Come on; I'll make the bargain.

_Isa_. You were ever good in a flesh-market.

_Trice_. Come, you little harlotry; what satisfaction can you
give me for running away before the ruffs came in?

_Const_. Why, I left you to 'em, that ever invite your own belly
to the greatest part of all your feasts.

_Trice_. I have brought you a knight here, huswife, with a
plentiful fortune to furnish out a table; and what would you more?
Would you be an angel in heaven?

_Isa_. Your mind's ever upon your belly.

_Trice_. No: 'tis sometimes upon yours: But, what say'st thou to
sir Timorous, little Constance?

_Const_. Would you have me married to that king Midas's face?

_Trice_. Midas me no Midas; he's a wit; he understands eating and
drinking well: _Poeta coquus_, the heathen philosopher could tell
you that.