Sir Vaughan. Oundes mee? that’s treason: clip? horrible treasons, Sesu holde my handes; clip? he baites mouse-trappes for my life.
Tucca. Right little Twinckler, right: hee sayes because thou speak’st no better, thou canst not keepe a good tongue in thy head.
Sir Vaug. By God tis the best tongue, I can buy for loue or money.
Tuc. He shootes at thee too Adam Bell, and his arrowes stickes heere; he calles thee bald-pate.
Sir Vaugh. Oundes make him prooue these intollerabilities.
Tuc. And askes who shall carry the vineger-bottle? & then he rimes too’t, and sayes Prickshaft: nay Miniuer hee cromples thy Cap too; and——
Cri. Come Tucca, come, no more; the man’s wel knowne, thou needst not paint him, whom does he not wrong?
Tuc. Mary himselfe, the vglie Pope Boniface, pardons himselfe, and therefore my iudgement is, that presently he bee had from hence to his place of execution, and there bee Stab’d, Stab’d, Stab’d.
He stabs at him.
Hor. Oh gentlemen, I am slaine, oh slaue art hyr’d to murder me, to murder me, to murder me?