To bridle this wretch I cannot but consent,
Sith I of his purpose have had oft intelligence.
Inc. Yet again [to] bridle it doth not prevail;
I will not be bridled of the best of you both.
See you this gear? here's one will make you to quail;
Stand back! to kill you, Master Just, I would be loth!
You have been so burned and fried of late,
That it were pity to hurt you any more.
Back, I say, or my dagger shall about your pate,
By the mass, but I will, sir, I'll make your bones sore. [Struggle two or three times.