Fan. Cockes armes, what is he?
Cr. Con. By Cockes harte, he loketh hye; 580
He hawketh, me thynke, for a butterflye.
C. Count. Nowe, by Cockes harte, well abyden,
For, had you not come, I had ryden.
Cl. Col. Thy wordes be but wynde, neuer they haue no wayght;
Thou hast made me play the iurde hayte.
C. Count. And yf ye knewe howe I haue mused,
I am sure ye wolde haue me excused.
Cl. Col. I say, come hyder: what are these twayne?