Nought but day's-eyes and fair looks gave I thee?

SOL. Nothing, my lord, nor aught more did I ask.

SUM. But hadst thou always kept thee in my sight,
Thy good deserts, though silent, would have ask'd.

SOL. Deserts, my lord, of ancient servitors
Are like old sores, which may not be ripp'd up.
Such use these times have got, that none must beg,
But those that have young limbs to lavish fast.

SUM. I grieve no more regard was had of thee:
A little sooner hadst thou spoke to me,
Thou hadst been heard, but now the time is past:
Death waiteth at the door for thee and me.
Let us go measure out our beds in clay;
Nought but good deeds hence shall we bear away.
Be, as thou wert, best steward of my hours,
And so return into thy country bow'rs.

[_Here_, SOLSTITIUM _goes out with his music, as he comes in_.

WILL SUM. Fie, fie, of honesty, fie! Solstitium is an ass, perdy, this
play is a gallimaufry. Fetch me some drink, somebody. What cheer, what
cheer, my hearts? Are not you thirsty with listening to this dry sport?
What have we to do with scales and hour-glasses, except we were bakers
or clock-keepers? I cannot tell how other men are addicted, but it is
against my profession to use any scales but such as we play at with a
bowl, or keep any hours but dinner or supper. It is a pedantical thing