Tut. We are his followers afar off you know.
And are contented to continue so.
[Exit Crates and Neant.
Onos. Sir Boy.
Page. Sir Fool? a Challenge to my Lord?
How dar'st thou, or thy ambs-ace here think of him,
Ye Crow-pick'd heads, which your thin shoulders bear
As does the Poles on Corinth Bridge the Traitors:
Why you three Nine-pins you talk of my Lord,
And challenges? you shall not need: come draw,
His Page is able to swindge three such whelpes:
Uncle, why stand ye off: long-man advance.
Onos. S'light, what have we done Tutor?
Tut. He is a Boy,
And we may run away with honour.
Page. That ye shall not,
And being a Boy I am fitter to encounter
A Child in Law as you are, under twenty:
Thou sot, thou three-score Sot, and that's a Child
Again I grant you.
Unc. Nephew, here's an age:
Boyes are turn'd men, and men are Children.
Page. Away you Pezants with your bought Gentry;
Are not you he, when your fellow Passengers,
Your last transportment being assayl'd by a Galley
Hid your self i'the Cabbin: and the Fight done
Peep'd above Hatches, and cry'd, Have we taken,
Or are we tane? Come, I do want a slipper,
But this shall serve: Swear all as I would have you,
Or I will call some dozen brother Pages,
(They are not far off I am sure) and we will blancket
You untill you piss again.
All. Nay, we will swear Sir.