But who comes yonder puffing, as hot as a black pudding.
I hold twenty pound it is a ruffian, if a goose go a-gooding.
Tom. Gog's heart and his guts, is not this too bad?
Blood, wounds, and nails! it will make a man mad.
New. I warrant you, here is a lusty one, [and] very brave:
I think anon he will swear himself a knave.
Tom. Many a mile have I ridden, and many a mile have I gone:
Yet can I not find for me a fit companion.
Many there be, which my company would frequent,
If to do, as they do, I would be content.