MER. ’Tis a toy, a trifle! FIT. Trifle! 12. thouſand pound for dogs-skins? MER. Yes, But, by my way of dreſſing, you muſt know, Sir, And med’cining the leather, to a height 70 Of improu’d ware, like your _Borachio_ Of _Spaine_, Sir. I can fetch nine thouſand for’t-- ING. Of the Kings glouer? MER. Yes, how heard you that? ING. Sir, I doe know you can. MER. Within this houre: And reſerue halfe my ſecret. Pluck another; 75 See if thou haſt a happier hand: I thought ſo. _Hee pluckes out the 2. Bottle-ale._ The very next worſe to it! Bottle-ale. Yet, this is two and twenty thouſand! Pr’y thee Pull out another, two or three. FIT. Good, ſtay, friend, By bottle-ale, two and twenty thouſand pound? 80 MER. Yes, Sir, it’s caſt to penny-hal’penny-farthing, O’ the back-ſide, there you may ſee it, read, I will not bate a _Harrington_ o’ the ſumme. I’ll winne it i’ my water, and my malt, My furnaces, and hanging o’ my coppers, 85 The tonning, and the ſubtilty o’ my yeſt; And, then the earth of my bottles, which I dig, Turne vp, and ſteepe, and worke, and neale, my ſelfe, To a degree of _Porc’lane_. You will wonder, At my proportions, what I will put vp 90 In ſeuen yeeres! for ſo long time, I aske For my inuention. I will ſaue in cork, In my mere ſtop’ling, ’boue three thouſand pound, Within that terme: by googing of ’hem out Iuſt to the ſize of my bottles, and not ſlicing, 95 There’s infinite loſſe i’ that. What haſt thou there? O’ making wine of raiſins: this is in hand, now, _Hee drawes out another_. Raiſines. ING. Is not that ſtrange, S^r, to make wine of raiſins? MER. Yes, and as true a wine, as the wines of _France_, Or _Spaine_, or _Italy_, Looke of what grape 100 My raiſin is, that wine I’ll render perfect, As of the _muſcatell_ grape, I’ll render _muſcatell_; Of the _Canary_, his; the _Claret_, his; So of all kinds: and bate you of the prices, Of wine, throughout the kingdome, halfe in halfe. 105 ING. But, how, S^r, if you raiſe the other commodity, Rayſins? MER. Why, then I’ll make it out of blackberries: And it ſhall doe the ſame. ’Tis but more art, And the charge leſſe. Take out another. FIT. No, good Sir. Saue you the trouble, I’le not looke, nor heare 110 Of any, but your firſt, there; the _Drown’d-land_: If’t will doe, as you ſay.