A friend of mine you Rascal? I was never wearier of doing any thing, than kicking these two Foot-balls.
Enter Servant.
Serv.
Here is a good Cudgel Sir.
Bac.
It comes too late I'me weary, pray thee do thou beat them.
2 Sword.
My Lord, this is foul play i'faith, to put a fresh man upon us, men are but men Sir.
Bac.
That jest shall save your bones; Captain, Rally up your rotten Regiment and be gone: I had rather thrash than be bound to kick these Rascals, till they cry'd ho; Bessus you may put your hand to them now, and then you are quit. Farewel, as you like this, pray visit me again, 'twill keep me in good health.