Hor. Deere Bubo, thou shalt answere him; our credites
Lye pawn’d vpon thy resolution,
Thy vallor must redeeme them; charge thy spirits,
To waite more close, and neere thee: if he kill thee,
Ile not suruiue; into one Lottery
We’ll cast our fates; together liue and dye.
Asi. Content, I owe God a death, and if he will make mee pay’t against my will, Ile say tis hard dealing.
Exeunt.
Enter Sir Adam, Tucca, with two pistols by his sides, his boy laden with swords and bucklers.
Tuc. Did Apolloes Freeze gowne watchman (boy, dost heare Turkie-cockes tayle, haue an eye behinde, least the enemie assault our Rere-ward) on proceede Father Adam; did that same tiranicall-tongu’d rag-a-muffin Horace, turne bald-pates out so naked?
Sir Ad. He did, and whipt them so with nettles, that
The Widdow swore that a bare-headed man,
Should not man her: the Ladie Petula
Was there, heard all, and tolde me this.
Tuc. Goe too. Thy golde was accepted, it was, and she shall bring thee into her Paradice, she shall small Adam, she shall.
Sir Ada. But how? but how Capten?
Tuc. Thus, goe, couer a table with sweet meates, let all the Gentlewomen, and that same Pasquils-mad-cap (mother Bee there) nibble, bid them bite: they will come to gobble downe Plummes; then take vp that paire of Basket hiltes, with my commission, I meane Crispinus and Fannius; charge one of them to take vp the Bucklers, against that hayre-monger Horace, and haue a bout or two, in defence of balde-pates: let them cracke euerie crowne that has haire on’t: goe, let them lift vp baldenes to the skie, and thou shalt see, twill turne Miniuers heart quite against the haire.