Bohan. The deele thou art, whay thou look’st not so big as
the king of Clubs, nor so sharpe as the king of Spades, nor so
faine as the king Adaymonds, be the masse ay take thee to bee
the king of false harts: therfore I rid thee away, or ayse so curry
your Kingdome, that yous be glad to runne to saue your life.
Ober. Why stoycall Scot, do what thou dar’st to me, heare is
my brest strike. 30
Boh. Thou wilt not threap me, this whiniard has gard many
better mẽ to lope thẽ thou: but how now? Gos sayds what wilt
not out? whay thou wich, thou deele, gads sute may whiniard.
Ober. Why pull man: but what an twear out, how then?
Boh. This then, thou weart best begon first: for ayl so lop
thy lyms, that thouse go with half a knaues carkasse to the deele
Ober. Draw it out, now strike foole, canst thou not?
Boh. Bread ay gad, what deele is in me, whay tell mee thou
skipiack what art thou?
Ober. Nay first tell me what thou wast from thy birth, what 40
thou hast past hitherto, why thou dwellest in a Tombe, & leauest
the world? and then I will release thee of these bonds, before
not.
Boh. And not before, then needs must needs sal: I was borne
a gentleman of the best bloud in all Scotland, except the king,
when time brought me to age, and death tooke my parents, I
became a Courtier, where though ay list not praise my selfe, ay
engraued the memory of Boughon on the skin-coate of some of
them, and reueld with the proudest.
Ober. But why liuing in such reputation, didst thou leaue to 50
be a Courtier?