_Glutton._ My belly I do deify.
_Echo._ Fie!
_Gl._ Who curbs his appetite’s a fool.
_Echo._ Ah! fool!
_Gl._ I do not like this abstinence.
_Echo._ Hence!
_Gl._ My joy’s a feast, my wish is wine.
_Echo._ Swine.
_Gl._ We epicures are happy truly.
_Echo._ You lie.
_Gl._ May I not, Echo, eat my fill?
_Echo._ Ill.
_Gl._ Will it hurt me if I drink too much?
_Echo._ Much.
_Gl._ Thou mock’st me, nymph, I’ll not believe it.
_Echo._ Believe it.
_Gl._ Do’st thou condemn, then, what I do?
_Echo._ I do.
_Gl._ Is it that which brings infirmities?
_Echo._ It is.
_Gl._ Then, sweetest Temperance, I’ll love thee.
_Echo._ I love thee.
_Gl._ If all be true which thou dost tell.
To gluttony I bid farewell.
_Echo._ Farewell!
* * * * *