We gree not halfe well within, our wenches and I,
They will commaunde like mistresses, they will forbyd,
If they be not serued, Trupeny must be chyd.
Let them be as mery nowe as ye can desire,
With turnyng of a hande, our mirth lieth in the mire,
I can not skill of such chaungeable mettle,
There is nothing with them but in docke out nettle.
D. Dough. Whether is it better that speake to him furst,
Or he first to me, it is good to cast the wurst.
If I beginne first, he will smell all my purpose,