Baily. Lo, where he cometh at hand, belike he was not far.
Diccon, here be two or three thy company cannot spare.
Diccon. God bless you, and you may be bless'd, so many all at once!
Chat. Come, knave, it were a good deed to geld thee, by Cock's bones.
Seest not thy handiwork? sir Rat, can ye forbear him?
Diccon. A vengeance on those hands light, for my hands came not near him.
The whoreson priest hath lift the pot in some of these alewives' chairs,
That his head would not serve him, belike, to come down the stairs.
Baily. Nay, soft, thou may'st not play the knave, and have this language too;
If thou thy tongue bridle a while, the better may'st thou do.