They shall dine with your Lordship, that's sufficient.
Bac.
Something in hand the while, you Rogues, you Apple-squires: do you come hither with your botled valour, your windy froth, to limit out my beatings?
1 Sword.
I do beseech your Lordship.
2 Sword.
O good Lord.
Bac.
S'foot-what a heavy of beaten slaves are here! get me a Cudgel sirra, and a tough one.
2 Sword.