1 Keep. We have few Citizens: they have Bedlams of their own, Sir,
And are mad at their own charges.
Alph. Who lyes here?
Mast. 'Pray ye do not disturb 'em, Sir, here lie such youths
Will make you start if they but dance their trenchmores,
Fetch out the Boy, Sirrah; hark!
[Shake Irons within. English mad-men, Scholar, Parson, Jenkin.
Alph. Heigh Boys.
Eng. Bounce,
Clap her o'th' star-board; bounce, top the Can.
Schol. Dead ye dog, dead, do ye quarrel in my Kingdom?
Give me my trident.
Eng. Bounce, 'twixt wind and water,
Loaden with Mackrel; O brave meat.
Schol. My Sea horses;
I'll charge the Northern Wind, and break his Bladder.
Pars. I'll sell my Bells before I be out-brav'd thus.