Tib. Talk. I see all folke mocke hym when he goth abrode.
C. Custance. What pretie maide? will ye talke when I speake?
Tib. Talk. No forsooth good mistresse.
C. Custance. Will ye my tale breake?
He threatneth to come hither with all his force to fight,
I charge you if he come, on him with all your might.
M. Mumbl. I with my distaffe will reache hym one rappe,
Tib. Talk. And I with my newe broome will sweepe hym one swappe,
And then with our greate clubbe I will reache hym one rappe.
An. Aliface. And I with our skimmer will fling him one flappe.