_Jul._ Ye may as well be kind, And gain our favours; gain meat and drink, And lodging to rest your bones. _Tib._ My bones have bore me thus long, And had their share of pains and recreations; If they fail now, they are no fair companions. _Cro._ Are ye thus harsh to all our Sex? _Mast._ We cannot be merry without a Fidler, Pray strike up your Tabors, Ladies. _Cro._ The fools despise us. _Jul._ We know ye are very hungry now. _Tib._ Yes 'tis very wholsom, Ladies; For we that have gross bodies, must be careful Have ye no piercing air to stir our stomachs? We are beholding to ye for our Ordinary. _Jul._ Why slaves, 'tis in our power to hang ye. _Mast._ Very likely. 'Tis in our powers then to be hang'd, and scorn ye. Hanging's as sweet to us, as dreaming to you. _Cro._ Come, be more courteous. _Jul._ Do, and then ye shall be pleas'd, and have all necessaries. _Tib._ Give me some Ratsbane then. _Cro._ And why Ratsbane, Mounsieur? _Tib._ We live like vermine here, and eat up your cheese, Your mouldy cheese, that none but Rats would bite at; Therefore 'tis just that Ratsbane should reward us. We are unprofitable, and our Ploughs are broken; There is no hope of Harvest this year, Ladies. _Jul._ Ye shall have all content. _Mast._ I, and we'll serve your uses. I had rather serve hogs, there's more delight in't; Your greedy appetites are never satisfied; Just like hungry Camels, sleeping or waking You chew the cud still. _Cro._ By this hand we'll starve ye. _Mast._ 'Tis a noble courtesie. I had as lief ye should famish me, as founder me: To be jaded to death, is only fit for a hackney. Here be certain Tarts of Tarr about me, And parcels of potargo in my Jerkin, As long as these last. _Jul._ Which will not last ever. _Tib._ Then we'll eat one another like good fellows. A shoulder of his for a haunch of mine. _Jul._ 'Tis excellent. _Tib._ 'Twill be as we'll dress it Ladies. _Cro._ Why sure ye are not men? _Mast._ Ye had best come search us, A Seaman is seldom without a salt Eele. _Tib._ I am bad enough, And in my nature a notorious wencher; And yet ye make me blush at your immodesty. Tell me good Master, didst ever see such things? _Mast._ I could like 'em, though they were lewdly given, If they could say no; [but fie on 'em, They gape like Oysters.]