Scrivener. Wherein?
R. Roister. Did not you make me a letter, brother?
Scrivener. Pay the like hire, I will make you such an other.
R. Roister. Nay, see, and these whoreson Pharisees and Scribes
Do not get their living by polling[133] and bribes.
If it were not for shame——
M. Merry. Nay, hold thy hands still.[134]
Why, did ye not promise that ye would not him spill?[135]
Scrivener. Let him not spare me.
R. Roister. Why, wilt thou strike me again?