GUM. [_Coming forward_.] Well sung of a woodcock. Come, thou must go have thy pipe tuned at mine host Welcome's; thou art like the glass pipe, that will never whistle but when there's water in't. HEATH. Ho, ho! What, furniture for a whole fair upon thy back at once? Dressed up just like the wooden boys on haberdashers' stalls. BRIS. Three strings to thy bow at once? Sure, thou canst not break when thou hast such a triple cord to hold thee. GUM. A single one, I believe, would spoil your drinking; 'twould tie up your guzzle. BRIS. But how dar'st thou walk abroad before owl-light? Dost think there's no birds stirring still that will spy out these feathers? Come, off with thy box of poetry, the Muses' warehouse, Calliope's Cabinet. 'Tis ominous to have the string about thy neck. If thou art taken with 'um, thou may'st be condemned to make as many wry mouths as the squeaking owner did, when he last strained and vomited 'um out at Smithfield or Pye Corner. GUM. O, there's no fear of that, though he that these call master had my neck in a slip. These are Ditty's, and these Budget's; they gave 'um me to hold a little; but I'll carry 'um to the Flying Horse, and change 'um for a cup of Helicon, which will in half an hour make me able to repay the paltry rhymes in heroic verse. BRIS. Come, shall we join together? we three are able to sponge up all the ale i' th' city, and raise the price of malt. GUM. A match; as far as these will go, I'm for you. HEATH. And when they're gone, we'll drink our very shirts out, and then pawn ourselves too. [_Exeunt._ SCENE XII. _Enter_ JENNITING _and_ CURDS. JEN. Was he a butcher, say you? CURDS. Ay, and called me his pretty lamb and his sweetbread; told me he would meet me here two hours ago, and promised me mountains; but bid me I should not tell you on't. JEN. They are mere rogues, very jugglers; they have cheated us both. Just so did the shoemaker do to me. CURDS. He has got my box of milled sixpences and Harry groats: the gilded scissors that were given me for a New Year's gift, and my bodkin and thimble. JEN. I would they might both feed upon nothing but rotten apples, and be choked with pears! CURDS. Or a piece of clout be left in the next fresh cheese they eat, and strangle 'um; or a favourable spider drop into the cream, and drown himself, that he may poison them. _Enter_ DITTY _and_ BUDGET. DITTY. 'Slife, lose [not] this opportunity; there she is; on, I say, and I'll be your second. I warrant she had been dead before this time, but that she smelt your breath hard by, or else knew by sympathy that you were coming.