Satiro-Mastix; or, the Vntrussing of the Humorous Poet

by Thomas Dekker

Tuc. What I can? thou knowst what I can discouer, but I will not lay thee open to the world.

Min. Lay me open to the world?

Tuc. No I will not my moldie decay’d Charing-crosse, I will not.

Mi. Hang thee patch-pannell, I am none a thy Charing-crosse: I scorne to be Crosse to such a scab as thou makst thy selfe.

Tuc. No, tis thou makst me so, my Long Meg a Westminster, thou breedst a scab, thou—

Min. I? dam thee filthie Captaine, dam thy selfe.

Tuc. My little deuill a Dow-gate, Ile dam thee, (thou knowst my meaning) Ile dam thee vp; my wide mouth at Bishops-gate.

Min. Wod I might once come to that damming.

Tuc. Why thou shalt, my sweet dame Annis a cleere thou shalt, for Ile drowne my selfe in thee; I, for thy loue, Ile sinke, I, for thee.