Soto. Shall the Hobby-horse be forgot then?
The hopeful Hobby-horse, shall he lye founder'd?
If thou do'st this, thou art but a cast-away Cobler:
My anger's up, think wisely, and think quickly,
And look upon the quondam beast of pleasure,
If thou dost this (mark me, thou serious Sowter)
Thou Bench-whistler of the old tribe of toe-pieces,
If thou dost this, there shall be no more shooe-mending,
Every man shall have a special care of his own soul:
And in his pocket carry his two Confessors,
His Yugel, and his Nawl: if thou dost this—
Far. He will dance again for certain.
Hob. I cry out on't,
'Twas the fore-running sin brought in those Tilt-staves,
They brandish 'gainst the Church, the devil calls May-poles.
Soto. Take up your Horse again, and girth him to ye,
And girth him handsomely, good neighbor Bomby.
Hob. I spit at him.
Soto. Spit in the Horse face, Cobler?
Thou out of tune, Psalm-singing slave; spit in his visnomy?
Hob. I spit again, and thus I rise against him:
Against this Beast: that signify'd destruction.
Fore-shew'd i'th' falls of Monarchies.
Soto. I'th' face of him?
Spit such another spit by this hand Cobler
I'll make ye set a new piece o' your nose there,
Tak't up I say, and dance without more bidding,
And dance as you were wont: you have been excellent
And art still, but for this new nicity,
And your wives learned Lectures: take up the Hobby-horse
Come, 'tis a thing thou hast lov'd with all thy heart Bomby,
And would'st do still but for the round-breech'd brothers:
You were not thus in the morning: tak't up I say,
Do not delay but do it: you know I am officer;
And I know 'tis unfit all these good fellows
Should wait the cooling of your zealous porridge;
Chuse whether you will dance, or have me execute:
I'll clap your neck i' th' stocks, and th[e]re I'll make ye
Dance a whole day, and dance with these at night too,
You mend old shooes well, mend your old manners better,
And suddenly see you leave off this sincereness.
This new hot Batch, borrowed from some brown Baker,
Some learned brother, or I'll so bait ye for't,
Take it quickly up.
Hob. I take my persecution,
And thus I am forc'd a by-word to my brethren.
Soto. Strike up, strike up: strike merrily.