Man. Now lay we mortal flesh upon the fire,
And, raising toothsome searings to our nostrils,
Bring us pleasure.
Dog. My jowls are all a-water!
Man. Sit thee on thy haunches, knave, and wait!
Sweet morsels will I grant a trusty servant.


Man. Now lay we mortal flesh upon the fire,
And, raising toothsome searings to our nostrils,
Bring us pleasure.
Dog. My jowls are all a-water!
Man. Sit thee on thy haunches, knave, and wait!
Sweet morsels will I grant a trusty servant.

