Excellent, excellent.

LIFTER.
Then, sir, you cannot but for manner's sake
Walk on with him; for he will walk your way,
Alleging either you have much forgot him,
Or he mistakes you.

SURESBY.
But in this time has he my purse or no?

LIFTER.
Not yet, sir, fie!--
[Aside.} No, nor I have not yours.--

[Enter Lord Mayor, &c.]

But now we must forbear; my lords return.

SURESBY.
A murren on't!--Lifter, we'll more anon:
Aye, thou sayest true, there are shrewd knaves indeed:

[He sits down.]

But let them gull me, widgen me, rook me, fop me!
Yfaith, yfaith, they are too short for me.
Knaves and fools meet when purses go:
Wise men look to their purses well enough.