Clow. Ho, ho, ho, my kidneys are rosted. I drop away like a pound of butter rosted.
Tayl. He will dance himself to death.
Foro. No matter I'll sell his fat to the Pothecaries, and repair my injury that way.
Host. Enough in conscience.
Foro. Well, at your entreaty vanish. And now I wil only make him break his neck in doing a sommerset, and that's all the revenge I mean to take of him.
Clow. O gentlemen, what a rogue was I to belye so an approved Master in the noble dark science? you can witness, this I did only to spoyle his practise and deprive you of the happyness of injoying his worthy labors; rogue that I was to do it, pray sir forgive me.
Foro. With what face canst thou ask it?
Clow. With such a face as I deserve, with a hanging look, as all here can testifie.
Foro. Well gentlemen, that you may perceive the goodness of my temper, I will entertain this rogue againe in hope of amendment, for should I turn him off, he would be hang'd.