ROBIN. No more, sweet Ralph: let's go and make clean our boots,
which lie foul upon our hands, and then to our conjuring in the
devil's name.
[Exeunt.]

Enter ROBIN and RALPH<126> with a silver goblet.

ROBIN. Come, Ralph: did not I tell thee, we were for ever made
by this Doctor Faustus' book? ecce, signum! here's a simple
purchase<127> for horse-keepers: our horses shall eat no hay as
long as this lasts.

RALPH. But, Robin, here comes the Vintner.

ROBIN. Hush! I'll gull him supernaturally.

Enter VINTNER.

Drawer,<128> I hope all is paid; God be with you!--Come, Ralph.

VINTNER. Soft, sir; a word with you. I must yet have a goblet paid
from you, ere you go.

ROBIN. I a goblet, Ralph, I a goblet!--I scorn you; and you are
but a, &c. I a goblet! search me.

VINTNER. I mean so, sir, with your favour.
[Searches ROBIN.]