C. Custance. What, pretty maid, will ye talk when I speak?
Tib. Talk. No, forsooth, good mistress.
C. Custance. Will ye my tale break?
He threateneth to come hither with all his force to fight;
I charge you, if he come, on him with all your might:
M. Mumbl. I with my distaff will reach him one rap.
Tib. Talk. And I with my new broom will sweep him one swap;
And then with our great club I will reach him one rap.
And I with our skimmer will fling him one flap.
Tib. Talk. Then Truepenny's fire-fork will him shrewdly fray: