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Qui mihi discipulus?[68] with such pickadevaunts[66] as I have: boy, quotha! WAGNER. Sirrah boy, come hither. he would give his soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton, for seven years, or I'll turn all the lice about thee into CLOWN. How, in verse? WAGNER. No, sirrah; in beaten silk and staves-acre.[69] have it well roasted, and good sauce to it, if I pay so dear. familiars,[71] and they shall tear thee in pieces. CLOWN. How! my soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton, though CLOWN. How, how, knaves-acre! ay, I thought that was all the land the villain is bare and out of service, and so hungry, that I know though it were blood-raw. CLOWN. Ay, and goings out too; you may see else. CLOWN. How, boy! swowns, boy! I hope you have seen many boys his father left him. Do you hear? I would be sorry to rob you of WAGNER. Sirrah, I say in staves-acre. 'twere blood-raw! not so, good friend: by'r lady,[67] I had need sirrah, leave your jesting, and bind yourself presently unto me CLOWN. Oho, oho, staves-acre! why, then, belike, if I were your WAGNER. Well, wilt thou serve me, and I'll make thee go like WAGNER. Tell me, sirrah, hast thou any comings in? Enter WAGNER[65] and CLOWN. WAGNER. So thou shalt, whether thou beest with me or no. But, man, I should be full of vermin.[70] your living. WAGNER. Alas, poor slave! see how poverty jesteth in his nakedness!