Adam. Why, suppose, master, I have offended you, is it lawful for the master to beat the servant for all offences?
Smith. Ay, marry, is it, knave.
Adam. Then, master, will I prove by logic, that seeing all sins are to receive correction, the master is to be corrected of the man. And, sir, I pray you, what greater sin is than jealousy? 'tis like a mad dog that for anger bites himself: therefore that I may do my duty to you, good master, and to make a white[102] son of you, I will so beswinge jealousy out of you, as you shall love me the better while you live.
Smith. What, beat thy master, knave?
Adam. What, beat thy man, knave? and, ay, master, and double beat you, because you are a man of credit; and therefore have at you the fairest for forty pence. [Beats the Smith.
Smith. Alas, wife, help, help! my man kills me.
S. Wife. Nay, even as you have baked, so brew: jealousy must be driven out by extremities.
Adam. And that will I do, mistress.
Smith. Hold thy hand, Adam; and not only I forgive and forget all, but I will give thee a good farm to live on.
Adam. Begone, peasant, out of the compass of my further wrath, for I am a corrector of vice; and at night I will bring home my mistress.