When, Maud, with a pestilence! what, mak’st thou no haste?
Of barberry[171] incense belike thou wouldest taste!
By the gods, I have stayed a full great while:
My lord he is near at hand by this at the church-stile,
And all for Maud mumble-turd, that mangpodding madge,
By the gods, if she hie not, I’ll give her my badge.
[Enter Mansipula.]
Mansipula. What, drake-nosed drivel, begin you to flont?
I’ll fry you in a faggot-stick, by Cock, goodman lout.
You boaster, you bragger, you brawling knave,