he stream
Already hath transported me so far,
That I can feel no ground at all: but soft---
Oh, 'tis our water-bearer: somewhat has crost him now.
Enter COB, hastily.

Cob. Fasting-days! what tell you me of fasting days? 'Slid, would
they were all on a light fire for me! they say the whole world
shall be consumed with fire one day, but would I had these
Ember-weeks and villanous Fridays burnt in the mean time, and
then--

Cash. Why, how now, Cob? what moves thee to this choler, ha?

Cob. Collar, master Thomas! I scorn your collar, I, sir; I am none
O' your cart-horse, though I carry and draw water. An you offer to
ride me with your collar or halter either, I may hap shew you a
jade's trick, sir.

Cash. O, you'll slip your head out of the collar? why, goodman Cob,
you mistake me.

Cob. Nay, I have my rheum, and I can be angry as well as another,
sir.

Cash. Thy rheum, Cob! thy humour, thy humour--thou misstak'st.

Cob. Humour! mack, I think it be so indeed; what is that humour?
some rare thing, I warrant.

Cash. Marry I'll tell thee, Cob: it is a gentlemanlike monster,
bred in the special gallantry of our time, by affectation; and fed
by folly.

Cob. How! must it be fed?

Cash. Oh ay, humour is nothing if it be not fed: didst thou never
hear that? it's a common phrase, feed my humour.

Cob. I'll none on it: humour, avaunt! I know you not, be gone! let
who will make hungry meals for your monstership, it shall not be I.
Feed you, quoth he! 'slid, I have much ado to feed myself;
especially on these lean rascally days too; an't had been any other
day but a fasting-day--a plague on them all for me! By this light,
one might have done the commonwealth good service, and have drown'd
them all in the flood, two or three hundred thousand years ago. O,
I do stomach them hugely. I have a maw now, and 'twere for sir
Bevis his horse, against them.

Cash. I pray thee, good Cob, what makes thee so out of love with
fasting days?

Cob. Marry, that which will make any man out of love with 'em, I
think; their bad conditions, an you will needs know. First they are
of a Flemish breed, I am sure on't, for they raven up more butter
than all the days of the week beside; next, they stink of fish and
leek-porridge miserably; thirdly, they'll keep a man devoutly
hungry all day, and at night sen