WILL SUM. Is there no man will give them a hiss for a largess? HAR. No, that there is not, goodman Lungis.[80] I see charity waxeth cold, and I think this house be her habitation, for it is not very hot: we were as good even put up our pipes and sing _Merry, merry_, for we shall get no money. [_Here they all go out singing. Merry, merry, merry: cheery, cheery, cheery! Trowl the black bowl to me. Hey derry, derry, with a poup and a lerry; I'll trowl it again to thee. Hooky, hooky, we have shorn And we have bound, And we have brought Harvest Home to town_. WILL SUM. Well, go thy ways, thou bundle of straw: I'll give thee this gift; thou shalt be a clown while thou liv'st. As lusty as they are, they run on the score with George's wife for their posset; and God knows who shall pay goodman Yeoman for his wheat sheaf. They may sing well enough-- _"Trowl the black bowl to me, Trowl the black bowl to me_;" for a hundred to one but they will all be drunk, ere they go to bed. Yet of a slavering fool, that hath no conceit in anything but in carrying a wand in his hand with commendation, when he runneth by the highway-side, this stripling Harvest hath done reasonable well. O, that somebody had the sense to set his thatched suit on fire, and so lighted him out: if I had but a jet[81] ring on my finger, I might have done with him what I list. I had spoiled him, had I[82] took his apparel prisoner; for, it being made of straw, and the nature of jet to draw straw unto it, I would have nailed him to the pommel of my chair, till the play were done, and then have carried him to my chamber-door, and laid him at the threshold, as a wisp or a piece of mat, to wipe my shoes on every time I come up dirty. SUM. Vertumnus, call Bacchus. VER. Bacchus, Baccha, Bacchum: God Bacchus, God fat-back, Baron of double beer and bottle ale, Come in and show thy nose that is nothing pale: Back, back, that[83] God barrel-belly may enter. _Enter_ BACCHUS _riding upon an ass trapped in ivy, himself dressed in vine leaves, and a garland of grapes on his head; his companions having all jacks in their hands, and ivy garlands on their heads; they come singing. The Song. Monsieur Mingo for quaffing doth surpass, In cup, in corn or glass. God Bacchus, do me right, And dub me knight Domingo_.[84] BAC. Wherefore didst thou call me, Vertumnus? hast any drink to give me? One of you hold my ass, while I light: walk him up and down the hall, till I talk a word or two. SUM. What, Bacchus; still _animus in patina_:[85] no mind but on the pot?