_Abig_. This Gentleman informs you truly:
Prethee be satisfied, and seek the Suburbs,
Good Captain, or what ever title else,
The Warlike Eele-boats have bestowed upon thee,
Go and reform thy self, prethee be sweeter,
And know my Lady speaks with no Swabbers.
_Elder Lo_. You cannot talk me out with your tradition
Of wit you pick from Plays, go to, I have found ye:
And for you, Sir, whose tender gentle blood
Runs in your Nose, and makes you snuff at all,
But three pil'd people, I do let you know,
He that begot your worships Sattin-sute,
Can make no men Sir: I will see this Lady,
And with the reverence of your silkenship,
In these old Ornaments.
_Wel_. You will not sure?
_Elder Lo_. Sure Sir I shall.
_Abig_. You would be beaten out?
_Elder Lo_. Indeed I would not, or if I would be beaten,
Pray who shall beat me? this good Gentleman
Looks as if he were o'th' peace.
_Wel_. Sir you shall see that: will you get you out?
_Elder Lo_. Yes, that, that shall correct your boys tongue.
Dare you fight, I will stay here still. [_They draw._
_Abig_. O their things are out, help, help for Gods sake,
Madam; Jesus they foin at one another.
_Enter_ Lady.
Madam, why, who is within there?
_Lady_. Who breeds this rudeness?
_Wel.
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