Strum.

Nay Neighbour Oliver, if you be so whot, come prepare your self, you shall find two as stout Fellows of us, as any in all the North.

Oliv.

No by my dorth Neighbour Strumbo, Ich zee dat you are a Man of small zideration, dat will zeek to injure your old vreends, one of your vamiliar guests, and derefore zeeing your pinion is to deal withouten reazon, Ich and my zonne William will take dat course, dat shall

be fardest vrom reason; how zay you, will you have my Daughter or no?

Strum.

A very hard question, Neighbour, but I will solve it as I may; what reason have you to demand it of me?

Will.

Marry Sir, what reason had you when my Sister was in the barn to tumble her upon the Hay, and to fish her Belly?

Strum.

Mass thou say'st true; well, but would you have me marry her therefore? No, I scorn her, and you, and you: Ay, I scorn you all.

Oliv.

You will not have her then?

Strum.

No, as I am a true Gentleman.

Will.

Then will we School you, e'er you and we part hence.

Strum.

Ay, you come in Pudding time, or else I had drest them.

Mar.

You Master Sawcebox, Lobcocks, Cockscomb, you Slopsawce, Lickfingers, will you not hear?

Strum.

Who speak you to, me?

Mar.

Ay, Sir, to you, John Lack-honesty, little Wit, is it you that will have none of me?

Strum.

No by my troth, Mistress Nicebice, how fine you can Nick-name me; I think you were brought up in the University of Bridewell, you have your Rhetorick so ready at your Tongues end, as if you were never well warn'd when you were young.

Mar.

Why then Goodman cods-head, if you will have none of me, farewel.

Strum.

If you be so plain, Mistress Driggle-draggle, fare you well.

Mar.

Nay, Master Strumbo, e'er you go from hence we must have more words, you will have none of me?

Strum.

Oh my Head, my Head, leave, leave, leave, I will, I will, I will.

Mar.

Upon that condition I let thee alone.

Oliv.

How now Master Strumbo, hath my Daughter taught you a new Lesson?

Strum.

Ay but hear you, Goodman Oliver, it will not be for my ease to have my Head broken every Day, therefore remedy this, and we shall agree.

Oliv.

Well, Zon, well, for you are my Zon now, all shall be remedied, Daughter be Friends with him.

Strum.

You are a sweet Nut, the Devil crack you. Masters, I think it be my luck, my first Wife was a loving quiet Wench, but this I think would weary the Devil. I would she might be burnt as my other Wife was; if not, I must run to the Halter for help. O Codpiece, thou hast undone thy Master, this it is to be medling with warm Plackets.