Lap. May I open mine eyes yet, and safely peep:
I'll try a groon first—oh—Nay then he's gone.
There was no other policy but to dy,
He would ha' made me else. Ribs are you sore?
I was ne'er beaten to a tune before.
Enter the two Brothers.
1 Bro. Lapet.
Lap. Agen? [Falls again.
1 Bro. Look, look, he's flat agen,
And stretched out like a Coarse, a handful longer
Than he walks, trust me brother. Why Lapet
I hold my life we shall not get him speak now:
Monsieur Lapet; it must be a privy token,
If any thing fetch him, he's so far gone.
We come to pass our words for your mans truth.
Lap. Oh Gentlemen y'are welcome: I have been thrash'd i' faith.
2 Bro. How? thrash'd Sir?
Lap. Never was Shrove-tuesday Bird
So cudgell'd, Gentlemen.
1 Bro. Pray how? by whom Sir?
Lap. Nay, that I know not.