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An Arch Wagg hearing a Woman cry Kitchin Stuff, ask't her what it was? she said, That which drops from Flesh. Well, says he, Call to morrow morning, and I'll help you to some: And having▪ got a Pot full of Sir-reverence, the Woman, as her Custom is, puts her hand into the Pot, and drawing it out, smelt the affront, and began to be angry; Nay, says he, don't be angry, for I helpt you to that
which falls from the Flesh. 'Tis very true indeed, says she, and I find your Flesh is now very dry (she strok't his Face with her hand) and it wants a little greasing, and stands I think in need of basting too, and being a lusty Jade, did baste him well-favouredly.