Alph. Know me, a pudding,
You juggle, and ye riddle; fart upon ye;
I am abused.
Mast. 'Pray ye, Sir. [Welsh madman.
Alph. And I will be abused, Sir,
And you shall know I am abused.
Welsh. Whaw, Mr. Keeper.
Alph. 'Pox o' thy whaws, and thy whyms,
'Pox o' thy urship.
Wel. Give me some Ceeze, and Onions; give me some wash-brew,
I have —— in my bellies, give me abundance,
Pendragon was a Shentleman, marg you, Sir,
And the Organs at Rixum were made by Revelations,
There is a spirit blows, and blows the Bellows,
And then they sing.
Alph. What Moon-calf's this? what dream?
Mast. 'Pray ye, Sir, observe him,
He is a Mountaineer, a man of Goteland.
Welsh. I will beat thy face as black as a blue Clout,
I will leave no more sheet in thine eyes.
Mast. He will not hurt ye.