CAPTAIN.
I may not.
STRUMBO.
[Snatching up the staff.]
No! Well, come, sir, will your stomach serve you? by gog’s blue hood and halidom, I will have a bout with you.
Fight both. Enter Thrasimachus.
THRASIMACHUS.
How now, what noise, what sudden clamor’s this?
How now, my captain and the cobbler so hard at it?
Sirs, what is your quarrel?
CAPTAIN.
Nothing, sir, but that he will not take press money.
THRASIMACHUS.
Here, good fellow; take it at my command,
Unless you mean to be stretched.
STRUMBO.
Truly, master gentleman, I lack no money; if you please, I will resign it to one of these poor fellows.
THRASIMACHUS.
No such matter,
Look you be at the common house tomorrow.
[Exeunt Thrasimachus and the captain.]
STRUMBO.
O, wife, I have spun a fair thread! If I had been quiet, I had not been pressed, and therefore well may I wayment. But come, sirrah, shut up, for we must to the wars.