Tuc. Nay, whir, nymble Prickshaft; whir, away, I goe vpon life and death, away, flie Scanderbag flie.

Exit.

Enter Asinius Bubo, and Horace aloofe.

Boy. Arme Captaine, arme, arme, arme, the foe is come downe.

Tucca offers to shoote.

Asi. Hold Capten Tucca holde, I am Bubo, & come to answer any thing you can lay to my charge.

Tuc. What, dost summon a parlie my little Drumsticke? tis too late; thou seest my red flag is hung out, Ile fill thy guts with thine owne carrion carcas, and then eate them vp in steed of Sawsages.

Asin. Vse me how you will; I am resolute, for I ha made my Will.

Tuc. Wilt fight Turke-a-ten-pence? wilt fight then?

Asini. Thou shalt finde Ile fight in a Godly quarrell, if I be once fir’d.