Ruffian. Come on, smith, thou shalt be one of the crew, because thou knowest where the best ale in the town is.
Adam. Come on, in faith, my colts; I have left my master striking of a heat, and stole away because I would keep you company.
First Ruf. Why, what, shall we have this paltry smith with us?
Adam. "Paltry smith"! why, you incarnative knave, what are you that you speak petty treason against the smith's trade?
First Ruf. Why, slave, I am a gentleman of Nineveh.
Adam. A gentleman! good sir, I remember you well, and all your progenitors: your father bare office in our town; an honest man he was, and in great discredit in the parish, for they bestowed two squires' livings on him, the one was on working-days, and then he kept the town stage, and on holidays they made him the sexton's man, for he whipped dogs out of the church. Alas, sir, your father,—why, sir, methinks I see the gentleman still: a proper youth he was, faith, aged some forty and ten; his beard rat's colour, half black, half white; his nose was in the highest degree of noses, it was nose autem glorificam,[65] so set with rubies that after his death it should have been nailed up in Copper-smiths-hall for a monument. Well, sir, I was beholding to your good father, for he was the first man that ever instructed me in the mystery of a pot of ale.
Second Ruf. Well said, smith; that crossed him over the thumbs.
First Ruf. Villain, were it not that we go to be merry, my rapier should presently quit[66] thy opproprious terms.
Adam. O Peter, Peter, put up thy sword, I prithee heartily, into thy scabbard; hold in your rapier; for though I have not a long reacher, I have a short hitter.—Nay then, gentlemen, stay me, for my choler begins to rise against him; for mark the words, "a paltry smith"! O horrible sentence! thou hast in these words, I will stand to it, libelled against all the sound horses, whole horses, sore horses, coursers, curtals, jades, cuts, hackneys and mares: whereupon, my friend, in their defence, I give thee this curse,—thou shalt not be worth a horse of thine own this seven year.
First Ruf. I prithee, smith, is your occupation so excellent?