Fus. ’Sfoot coz, a good jest, did you hear him? he told me in my ears, I was a “flat fool, an ass, a gull, and I’ll thrum you:—do you see this cambric sir?”
Vio. What, not my men, I hope?
Fus. No, not your men, but one of your men i’faith.
1st Pren. I pray, sir, come hither, what say you to this? here’s an excellent good one.
Fus. Ay, marry, this likes[177] me well; cut me off some half-score yards.
2nd Pren. Let your whores cut; you’re an impudent coxcomb; you get none, and yet I’ll thrum you:—a very good cambric, sir.
Fus. Again, again, as God judge me! ’Sfoot, coz, they stand thrumming here with me all day, and yet I get nothing.
1st Pren. A word, I pray, sir, you must not be angry. Prentices have hot bloods, young fellows,—what say you to this piece? Look you, ’tis so delicate, so soft, so even, so fine a thread, that a lady may wear it.
Fus. ’Sfoot, I think so, if a knight marry my punk, a lady shall wear it: cut me off twenty yards: thou’rt an honest lad.