Books, sometimes my Cloaths to the Vintners in their Taverns.
Cup.
'Tis true my Phillis, I have done it, and thou hast soundly Cudgelled me for it.
Poll.
I have, and will soundly Cudgel, and Cudgel thee again. Shall I sit spinning with an empty belly all day at home, when you in the Taverns are all in a hoyt, dying the pavements with Claret Wine and Muskadine; but if ever I see you set but your foot again within a Tavern.—
Cup.
What? not so much as my foot.
Cup.
Then kill me without any more adoe; But clear thy brow, my Dear, what wilt thou drink Sweat-heart! ••ell me my Love!
Poll.
Away with these flatteries; If my Cloaths be not redeem∣ed—
Cup.
Sweet Love, they shall be redeemed, look thee what here is—
Poll.
What Gold! where didst thou get that Gold sweet Man?
Cup.
Now I am your sweet Man. O Gold what canst thou not do? will you have half of it?
Cup.
Dear Soul! O thou most dissembling Woman! well, you shall have half, if you will do me one small courtesie.
Cup.
Nothing, but a little to put thy self forth to a Friend of mine to use thee.
Poll.
O wicked man; what wilt thou put forth thy wife to use, thou thy self knowing it?
Cup.
You do not rightly understand me?
Poll.
What, if I should now make thee a Corn-elius of a Cupes.
Cup.
I would then make thee again a Corn-eli•• of a Poll••.
Poll.
Tell me what sayst thou? hadst thou rather be Publius Cor∣nelius, or Cornelius Tacitus?
Cup.
Oh, Cornelius Tacitus by a great deal, but I think no Man will make a Whore of such a pittiful Jade as thou art, Ha, Ha▪ He.
Poll
Pitiful Jade; Dost thou laugh at me, thou ugly Tankerd-bearer?