Mart. Yes, for a generall fool,
A knave, a coward, and upstart stallion baw[d],
Beast, barking puppy, that dares not bite.
Prot. The best man best knows patience.
Mart. Yes,
This way Sir, now draw your sword, and right you,
Or render it to me, for one you shall doe.
Pro. If wearing it may do you any honor,
I shall be glad to grace you, there it is Sir.
Mart. Now get you home, and tell your Lady Mistris,
Shee has shot up a sweet mushrum; quit your place too,
And say you are counsel'd well, thou wilt be beaten else
By thine own lanceprisadoes; when they know thee,
That tuns of oyl of roses will not cure thee;
Goe get you to your foyning work at Court,
And learn to sweat again, and eat dry mutton;
An armor like a frost will search your bones
And make you roar you rogue; Not a reply,
For if you doe, your ears goe off.
Prot. Still patience. [Exeunt.
[Loud musick, A Banquet set out.
Enter Thierry, Ordella, Brunhalt, Theodoret, Lecure, Bawder, &c.
Thier. It is your place, and though in all things else
You may and ever shall command me, yet
In this I'll be obeyed.
Ordella. Sir, the consent,
That made me yours, shall never teach me to
Repent I am so; yet be you but pleas'd
To give me leave to say so much; The honor
You offer me were better given to her,
To whom you owe the power of giving.