JENKIN CAREAWAY.
What knave is that? he speaketh not to me, I trow,
And we meet, the one of us is like to have a blow!
For now that I am well chafed, and somewhat hot,
Twenty such could I hew as small as flesh to pot;
And surely, if I had a knife,
This knave should escape hardly with his life:
To teach him to ask of me any more,
What I make at my own master's door.
JACK JUGGLER.
But if thou come from that gate, thou knave,
I well fet thee by the sweet locks,[180] so God me save!
JENKIN CAREAWAY.
Woll the whoreson fight indeed, by mine honesty?
I know no quarrel he hath to me;
But I would I were within the house,
And then I would not set by him a louse;
For I fear and mistrust such quarreling thieves:
See, how he beginneth to strike up his sleeves!
JACK JUGGLER.
His arse maketh buttons now, and who lusteth to feel,
Shall find his heart creeping out at his heel,
Or else lying hidden in some corner of his hose,
If it be not already dropped out of his nose.
For, as I doubt not but you have heard beforne,
A more dastard coward knave was never born.
JENKIN CAREAWAY.
The devil set the house a-fire! I trow it is accurst;
When a man hath most haste, he speedeth worst;
If I be robbed or slain, or any harm get,
The fault is in them, that doth not me in let.
And I durst jeopard an hundred pound,
That some bawdry might now within be found;
But except some of them come the sooner,
I shall knock such a peal, that all England shall wonder.
JACK JUGGLER.
Knock at the gate hardily again, if thou dare;
And seeing thou wolt not by fair words beware,
Now, fists, me-thinketh, yesterday seven past,
That four men asleep at my feet you cast,
And this same day you did no manner good,
Nor were not washen in warm blood.
JENKIN CAREAWAY.
What whoreson is this that washeth in warm blood?
Some devil broken loose out of hell for wood!
Four hath he slain, and now well I see,
That it must be my chance the fifth to be!
But rather than thus shamefully to be slain,
Would Christ my friends had hanged me, being but years twain!
And yet, if I take good heart and be bold,
Percase he woll be more sober and cold.
JACK JUGGLER.
Now, hands, bestir you about his lips and face,
And strike out all his teeth without any grace!
Gentleman, are you disposed to eat any fist-meat?
JENKIN CAREAWAY.
I have supped, I thank you, sir, and list not to eat:
Give it to them that are hungry, if you be wise.
JACK JUGGLER.
It[181] shall do a man of your diet no harm to sup twice:
This shall be your cheese to make your meat digest,
For I tell you these hands weigheth of the best.