R. Roister. I lack yet an headpiece.
M. Merry. The kitchen collocavit the best hens to grease;
Run, fet it, Dobinet, and come at once withal,
And bring with thee my potgun,[159] hanging by the wall.[160]
I have seen your head with it, full many a time,
Covered as safe as it had been with a scrine:
And I warrant it save your head from any stroke,
Except perchance to be amazed with the smoke:
I warrant your head therewith, except for the mist,
As safe as if it were fast locked up in a chist.