Mansipulus. Nay, rather I wish her the end of my knife.
Mansipula. Draw it, give me it, I will it receive,
So that for to place it I might have good leave:
By the gods, but for losing my land, life and living,
It should be so placed he should have ill-thriving.
Mansipulus. By the gods, how ungraciously the vixen she chatteth.
Mansipula. And he even as knavishly my answer he patteth.
Haphazard. Here is nought else but railing of words out of reason,
Now tugging, now tattling, now muzzling in season.
For shame! be contented, and leave off this brawling.