But why should he so dreade and feare her hate,
Since she had given him armor for his pate?
Next day forsooth he doth his neighbor meete,
Whome with sterne rage thus furiously doth greete,
Villaine ile slit thy nose, out comes his knife,
Sirra (quoth he) goe to Ile tell your wife.
Apaled at which terror, meekely faide
Retire good knife my furie is allaide.
