Enter Jaques.
Pur. The world is at a wise pass when nobility is afraid of a flatterer.
Jaq. Sirrah, what be you that parley contre Monsieur my Lord Ateukin? en bonne foi, prate you against Sir Altesse, me maka your tête to leap from your shoulders, per ma foi c'y ferai-je?
And. O, signior captain, you show yourself a forward and friendly gentleman in my master's behalf: I will cause him to thank you.
Jaq. Poltron, speak me one parola against my bon gentilhomme, I shall estamp your guts, and thump your backa, that you no point manage this ten hours.
Pur. Sirrah, come open me the stable, and let me have the horses;—and, fellow, for all your French brags, I will do my duty.
And. I'll make garters of thy guts, thou villain, if thou enter this office.
Jaq. Mort Dieu, take me that cappa pour votre labeur: be gone, villain, in the mort. [Exit.
Pur. What, will you resist me, then? Well, the council, fellow, shall know of your insolency.