Bess. My mind suggests me that this prating fellow Is some notorious coward. If he persist, I have a trick to try what metal’s in him. [_Re-enter_ Clem. What news with you? Clem. I am now going to carry the captains a reckoning. Bess. And what’s the sum? Clem. Let me see--eight shillings and sixpence. Bess. How can you make that good? Write them a bill. Clem. I’ll watch them for that; ’tis no time of night to use our bills. The gentlemen are no dwarfs; and with one word of my mouth I can tell them what is to be-tall.[2.20] Bess. How comes it to so much? Clem. _Imprimis_, six quarts of wine, at sevenpence the quart, seven sixpences. Bess. Why dost thou reckon it so? Clem. Because, as they came in by hab nab, so I will bring them in a reckoning at six and at sevens. Bess. Well, wine, three shillings and sixpence. Clem. And what wants that of ten groats? Bess. ’Tis twopence over. Clem. Then put sixpence more to it, and make it four shillings wine, though you bate it them in their meat. Bess. Why so, I prithee? Clem. Because of the old proverb, “What they want in meat, let them take out in drink.” Then, for twelve pennyworth of anchoves, eighteenpence. Bess. How can that be? Clem. Marry, very well, mistress: twelvepence anchoves, and sixpence oil and vinegar. Nay, they shall have a saucy reckoning. Bess. And what for the other half-crown? Clem. Bread, beer, salt, napkins, trenchers, one thing with another; so the _summa totalis_ is eight shillings and sixpence. Bess. Well, take the reckoning from the bar. Clem. What needs that, forsooth? The gentlemen seem to be high-flown already. Send them in but another pottle of sack, and they will cast up the reckoning of themselves. Yes, I’ll about it. [_Exit_. Bess. Were I not with so many suitors pestered, And might I enjoy my Spencer, what a sweet, Contented life were this! for money flows, And my gain’s great. But to my Roughman next. I have a trick to try what spirit’s in him. It shall be my next business; in this passion For my dear Spencer, I propose me this: ’Mongst many sorrows, some mirth’s not amiss. [_Exit_. SCENE II.--_Fayal_.[2.21] _Enter_ Spencer _and_ Captain Goodlack. Goodlack. What were you thinking, sir? Spencer. Troth, of the world: what any man should see in’t to be in love with it. Goodlack. The reason of your meditation?