CAP. You see, my scurvy Don, how precious you are in esteem amongst us, had you not beene better kept at home, I thinke you had: must you needes come amongst us, to have your saffron hide taw'd as wee intend it: My Don, Phylaster must suffer death to satisfie your melancholly spleene, he must my Don, he must; but we your Physitians, hold it fit that you bleede for it: Come my robusticks, my brave regiment of rattle makers, let's cal a common cornuted counsell, and like grave Senators, beare up our brancht crests, in sitting upon the severall tortures we shall put him to, and with as little sense as may be, put your wils in execution.
SOME CRIES. Burne him, burne him.
OTHERS. Hang him, hang him.
[Enter PHYLASTER.
CAP. No, rather let's carbinade his cods-head, and cut him to collops: shall I begin?
PHI. Stay your furies my loving Countrimen.
OMNES. Phylaster is come, Phylaster, Phylaster.
CAP. My porcupines of spite, make roome I say, that I may salute my brave Prince: and is Prince Phylaster at liberty? PHI. I am, most loving countrimen.
CAP. Then give me thy Princely goll, which thus I kisse, to whom I crouch and bow; But see my royall sparke, this head-strong swarme that follow me humming like a master Bee, have I led forth their Hives, and being on wing, and in our heady flight, have seazed him shall suffer for thy wrongs.
OMNES. I, I, let's kill him, kill him.