HAU: O, Trusty, which was it you said, your father, or your mother,
that was cured with the Sick Man's Salve?

TRUS: My mother, madam, with the Salve.

TRUE: Then it was the sick woman's salve?

TRUS: And my father with the Groat's-worth of Wit. But there was
other means used: we had a preacher that would preach folk asleep
still; and so they were prescribed to go to church, by an old woman
that was their physician, thrice a week--

EPI: To sleep?

TRUS: Yes, forsooth: and every night they read themselves asleep on
those books.

EPI: Good faith, it stands with great reason. I would I knew where
to procure those books.

MOR: Oh!

LA-F: I can help you with one of them, mistress Morose, the
Groat's-worth of Wit.

EPI: But I shall disfurnish you, sir Amorous: can you spare it?

LA-F: O, yes, for a week, or so; I'll read it myself to him.

EPI: No, I must do that, sir: that must be my office.