BUSY. Only pig was not comprehended in my admonition, the rest were: for long hair, it is an ensign of pride, a banner; and the world is full of those banners, very full of banners. And bottle-ale is a drink of Satan's, a diet-drink of Satan's, devised to puff us up, and make us swell in this latter age of vanity; as the smoke of tobacco, to keep us in mist and error: but the fleshly woman, which you call Ursla, is above all to be avoided, having the marks upon her of the three enemies of man; the world, as being in the Fair; the devil, as being in the fire; and the flesh, as being herself. _Enter DAME PURECRAFT._ PURE. Brother Zeal-of-the-land! what shall we do? my daughter Win-the-fight is fallen into her fit of longing again. BUSY. For more pig! there is no more, is there? PURE. To see some sights in the Fair. BUSY. Sister, let her fly the impurity of the place swiftly, lest she partake of the pitch thereof. Thou art the seat of the beast, O Smithfield, and I will leave thee! Idolatry peepeth out on every side of thee. [_Goes forward._ KNOCK. An excellent right hypocrite! now his belly is full, he falls a railing and kicking, the jade. A very good vapour! I'll in, and joy Ursla, with telling how her pig works; two and a half he eat to his share; and he has drunk a pailful. He eats with his eyes, as well as his teeth. [_Exit._ LEATH. What do you lack, gentlemen? what is't you buy? rattles, drums, babies-- BUSY. Peace, with thy apocryphal wares, thou profane publican; thy bells, thy dragons, and thy Tobie's dogs. Thy hobby-horse is an idol, a very idol, a fierce and rank idol; and thou, the Nebuchadnezzar, the proud Nebuchadnezzar of the Fair, that sett'st it up, for children to fall down to, and worship. LEATH. Cry you mercy, sir; will you buy a fiddle to fill up your noise? _Re-enter LITTLEWIT and his Wife._ LIT. Look, Win, do, look a God's name, and save your longing. Here be fine sights. PURE. Ay, child, so you hate them, as our brother Zeal does, you may look on them. LEATH. Or what do you say to a drum, sir? BUSY. It is the broken belly of the beast, and thy bellows there are his lungs, and these pipes are his throat, those feathers are of his tail, and thy rattles the gnashing of his teeth. TRASH. And what's my gingerbread, I pray you? BUSY. The provender that pricks him up. Hence with thy basket of popery, thy nest of images, and whole legend of ginger-work. LEATH. Sir, if you be not quiet the quicklier, I'll have you clapp'd fairly by the heels, for disturbing the Fair. BUSY. The sin of the Fair provokes me, I cannot be silent. PURE. Good brother Zeal! LEATH. Sir, I'll make you silent, believe it. LIT. I'd give a shilling you could, i'faith, friend. [_Aside to Leatherhead._ LEATH. Sir, give me your shilling, I'll give you my shop, if I do not; and I'll leave it in pawn with you in the mean time. LIT. A match, i'faith; but do it quickly then. [_Exit Leatherhead._