COOMES. Urge ye, with a pox! who urges ye? You might have said so much to a clown, or one that had not been o'er the sea to see fashions: I have, I tell ye true; and I know what belongs to a man. Crack my crown, and ye can.
FRAN. And I can, ye rascal!
PHIL. Hold, hair-brain, hold! dost thou not see he's drunk?
COOMES. Nay, let him come: though he be my master's son, I am my master's man, and a man is a man in any ground of England. Come, and he dares, a comes upon his death: I will not budge an inch, no, 'sblood, will I[236] not.
FRAN. Will ye not?
PHIL. Stay, prythee, Frank. Coomes, dost thou hear?
COOMES. Hear me no hears: stand away, I'll trust none of you all. If I have my back against a cartwheel, I would not care if the devil came.
PHIL. Why, ye fool, I am your friend.
COOMES. Fool on your face! I have a wife.
FRAN. She's a whore, then.