Orl. I cannot abide, sir, to see a woman wronged, not I.
Mat. Sirrah, here was my father-in-law to day.
Orl. Pish, then you’re full of crowns.
Mat. Hang him! he would ha’ thrust crowns upon me, to have fallen in again, but I scorn cast clothes, or any man’s gold.
Orl. But mine; [Aside.]—How did he brook that, sir?
Mat. Oh, swore like a dozen of drunken tinkers; at last growing foul in words, he and four of his men drew upon me, sir.
Orl. In your house? would I had been by!
Mat. I made no more ado, but fell to my old lock, and so thrashed my blue-coats and old crab-tree-face my father-in-law, and then walked like a lion in my grate.
Orl. O noble master!