angry women of Abington.
as from a Sith, Ile cut thee out in collops & egs, in sleekes,
in sliste beefe, and fry thee with the fire, I shall strike from
the pike of thy Buckler.
in sliste beefe, and fry thee with the fire, I shall strike from
the pike of thy Buckler.
Nich. I, brag's a good dog, threatned folkes liue long.
Coo. What say ye sir?
Nic. Why I say not so much as how do ye.
Coo. Doe ye not so sir?
Nic. No indeed, what so ere I thinke, and thought is free.
Coo. You whoreson Wafer-cake, by Gods dines ile crush
yee for this.
yee for this.
Ni. Giue an inch and youle take an elle, I wil not put my
finger in a hole I warrant ye, what man, nere crow so fast,
for a blinde man may kill a Hare, I haue knowne when a
plaine fellow hath hurt a Fencer, so I haue: What, a man
may be as slow as a Snaile, but as fierce as a Lyon, and he
be mooued: Indeed I am patient I must needs say, for patience
in aduersity, brings a man to the three Cranes in the Ventree.
finger in a hole I warrant ye, what man, nere crow so fast,
for a blinde man may kill a Hare, I haue knowne when a
plaine fellow hath hurt a Fencer, so I haue: What, a man
may be as slow as a Snaile, but as fierce as a Lyon, and he
be mooued: Indeed I am patient I must needs say, for patience
in aduersity, brings a man to the three Cranes in the Ventree.
Coo. Do ye heare, set downe your Torch, drawe, fight, I
am for ye.
am for ye.
Ni. And I am for ye too, though it be from this midnight
to the next morne.
to the next morne.
Coo. Where be your tooles?
Nic. Within a mile of an oake sir, hee's a proud horse will
not carry his owne prouender, I warrant ye.
not carry his owne prouender, I warrant ye.
Coo. Now am I in my quarrelling humor, and now can I
say nothing but sownes draw, but ile vntrus, & thē haue to it.
say nothing but sownes draw, but ile vntrus, & thē haue to it.
Enter Hodge and Boy.
Hod. Whose there, Boy? honest Boy, well met, where
hast thou bin.
hast thou bin.
Boy. O Hodge, Dicke Coomes hath bin as good as a crye
of Hounds, to make a breathd Hayre of me, but didst thou
see my master?
of Hounds, to make a breathd Hayre of me, but didst thou
see my master?
Hod. I met him euen now, and he askt me for thee, and
he is gone vp and downe, whoing like an Owle for thee.
he is gone vp and downe, whoing like an Owle for thee.
Boy. Owle, ye Asse.
Hod. Asse, no nor glasse, for then it had been Owleglasse,
but whose that boy?
but whose that boy?
Bo. By the masse tis our Coomes & Nicholas, & it seemes
they are prouiding to fight.
they are prouiding to fight.
Hod.
