WASPE. I know! I know nothing, I: what tell you me of knowing? Now I am in haste, sir, I do not know, and I will not know, and I scorn to know, and yet, now I think on't, I will, and do know as well as another; you must have a mark for your thing here, and eight-pence for the box; I could have saved two-pence in that, an I had brought it myself; but here's fourteen shillings for you. Good Lord, how long your little wife stays! pray God, Solomon, your clerk, be not looking in the wrong box, master proctor. LIT. Good i'faith! no, I warrant you Solomon is wiser than so, sir. WASPE. Fie, fie, fie, by your leave, master Littlewit, this is scurvy, idle, foolish, and abominable, with all my heart; I do not like it. [_Walks aside._ WINW. Do you hear! Jack Littlewit, what business does thy pretty head think this fellow may have, that he keeps such a coil with? QUAR. More than buying of gingerbread in the cloister here, for that we allow him, or a gilt pouch in the fair? LIT. Master Quarlous, do not mistake him; he is his master's both-hands, I assure you. QUAR. What! to pull on his boots a mornings, or his stockings, does he? LIT. Sir, if you have a mind to mock him, mock him softly, and look t'other way: for if he apprehend you flout him once, he will fly at you presently. A terrible testy old fellow, and his name is Waspe too. QUAR. Pretty insect! make much on him. WASPE. A plague o' this box, and the pox too, and on him that made it, and her that went for't, and all that should have sought it, sent it, or brought it! do you see, sir. LIT. Nay, good master Waspe. WASPE. Good master Hornet, turd in your teeth, hold you your tongue: do not I know you? your father was a 'pothecary, and sold clysters, more than he gave, I wusse: and turd in your little wife's teeth too--here she comes-- _Re-enter MRS. LITTLEWIT, with the box._ 'twill make her spit, as fine as she is, for all her velvet custard on her head, sir. LIT. O, be civil, master Numps. WASPE. Why, say I have a humour not to be civil; how then? who shall compel me, you? LIT. Here is the box now. WASPE. Why, a pox o' your box, once again! let your little wife stale in it, an she will. Sir, I would have you to understand, and these gentlemen too, if they please-- WINW. With all our hearts, sir. WASPE. That I have a charge, gentlemen. LIT. They do apprehend, sir.