And. Sirrha, sirrha, hold your hand, least I bum you.
Pur. I tell thee, thy Maisters geldings are good,
And therefore fit for the king.
An. I tell thee, my Maisters horses haue gald backes, 1260
And therefore cannot fit the King.
Purueyr, Purueyer, puruey thee of more wit, darst thou presume
to wrong my Lord Ateukins, being the chiefest man in
Court.
Pur. The more vnhappie Common-weale,
Where flatterers are chiefe in Court.
And. What sayest thou?
Pur. I say thon art too presumptuous,
And the officers shall schoole thee.
And. A figge for them and thee Purueyer, 1270
They seeke a knot in a ring, that would wrong
My maister or his seruants in this Court.
Enter Iaques.
Pur. The world is at a wise passe,
When Nobilitie is a fraid of a flatterer.
Iaq. Sirrha, what be you that parley, contra Monsieur my
Lord Ateukin, en bonne foy, prate you against syr Altesse, mee
maka your test to leap from your shoulders, per ma foy cy fere
ie.