candle-waster?

ANA. Nay, be not impatient, Hedon.

HED. 'Slight, I would fain know his name.

ANA. Hang him, poor grogan rascal! prithee think not of him: I'll
send for him to my lodging, and have him blanketed when thou wilt,
man.

HED. Ods so, I would thou couldst. Look, here he comes.

ENTER CRITES, AND WALKS IN A MUSING POSTURE AT THE BACK OF THE
STAGE.

Laugh at him, laugh at him; ha, ha, ha.

ANA. Fough! he smells all lamp-oil with studying by candle-light.

HED. How confidently he went by us, and carelessly! Never moved,
nor stirred at any thing! Did you observe him?

ANA. Ay, a pox on him, let him go, dormouse: he is in a dream
now. He has no other time to sleep, but thus when he walks abroad
to take the air.

HED. 'Sprecious, this afflicts me more than all the rest, that we
should so particularly direct our hate and contempt against him,
and he to carry it thus without wound or passion! 'tis
insufferable.