My name is Lob, and Hob my next neighbour.
Ambidexter.
Hob and Lob, ah ye country patches!
Ah ye fools! ye have made wrong matches;
Ye have spoken treason against the king’s grace:
For it I will accuse ye before his face;
Then for the same ye shall be martyr’d:
At the least ye shall be hang’d, drawn, and quartered.
Hob.
O gentleman, ye shall have two pear-pies, and tell not of me.