ISMAEL. Peace, whore, or ye bear me a box on[224] there—
DALILAH. Here is mine ear, knave; strike, and thou dare!
To suffer him thus ye be no man,
If ye will not revenge me, I will find one;
To set so little by me ye were not wont—
Well, it is no matter;
Though ye do, ceteri nolunt.
INIQUITY. Peace, Dalilah; speak ye Latin, poor fool?
DALILAH. No, no, but a proverb I learned at school—
ISMAEL. Yea, sister, you went to school, till ye were past grace;—
DALILAH. Yea, so didst thou, by thy knave's face!
INIQUITY. Well, no more a-do, let all this go,
We kinsfolk must be friends, it must be so.
Come on, come on, come on,
[He casteth dice on the board.
Here they be that will do us all good.
ISMAEL. If ye use it long, your hair will grow through your hood.
INIQUITY. Come on, knave, with Christ's curse,
I must have some of the money
Thou hast picked out of thy father's purse!
DALILAH. He, by the mass, if he can get his purse,
Now and then he maketh it by half the worse.