Nich. Me thinks I am now Sophocles, the wise, and thou art Martius, the mad.
Cornel. No more of your tricks good Corporall Letherchops: I say, thou hast dishonour'd me, and since honor now adaies is only repaired by money, pay me, and I am satisfied: Even reckoning keeps long friends.
Nic. Let us continue friends then, for I have been even with thee a long time; and though I have not paid thee, I have paid thy wife.
Corn. Flow forth my tears, thou hast deflowred her Tarquin, the Garden of my delight, hedg'd about, in which there was but one bowling Alley for mine owne private procreation, thou hast, like a thief in the night, leap'd the hedge, entred my Alley, and without my privitie, plaid thine owne rubbers.
Nic. How long shall patience thus securely snore?
Is it my fault, if these attractive eyes,
This budding chin, or rosie-colour'd cheek,
This comely body, and this waxen leg,
Have drawn her into a fools paradise?
By Cupids —— I do swear (no other)
She's chaster far then Lucrece, her grand-mother;
Pure as glass-window, ere the rider dash it,
Whiter then Ladyes smock, when she did wash it:
For well thou wotst (though now my hearts Commandress)
I once was free, and she but the Camps Landress.
Corn. I, she then came sweet to me; no part about her but smelt of Soap-suds, like a Dryad out of a wash-bowl. Pray, or pay.
Nich. Hold.
Corn. Was thy cheese mouldy, or thy peny-worths small?
Was not thy Ale the mightiest of the earth in Malt,
And thy stope fill'd like a tide: was not thy bed soft, and
Thy Bacon fatter then a dropsie? Come, Sir.
Nich. Mars then inspire me with the fencing skill
Of our Tragedi[a]n Actors. Honor pricks;
And Sutler, now I come with thwacks and thwicks.
Grant us one crush, one pass, and now a high, Cavalto fall:
Then up again, now down again, yet do no harm at all.
Enter Wife.