Herod. What sport? what sport?
Page. Marry, sir, to solemnise the princess’ birthday. There’s first, crackers, which run into the air, and when they are at the top, like some ambitious strange heretic,
keep a cracking and a cracking, and then break, and down they come. 12
Herod. A pretty crab; he would yield tart juice and he were squeez’d.
Nym. What sport else?
Page. Other fireworks.
Herod. Spirit of wine, I cannot tell how these fireworks should be good at the solemnising the birth of men or women. I am sure they are dangerous at their begetting. What, more fireworks, sir? 20
Page. There be squibs, sir; which squibs, running upon lines,[129] like some of our gaudy gallants, sir, keep a smother, sir, with flishing and flashing, and, in the end, sir, they do, sir——
Nym. What, sir?
Page. Stink, sir.