NICH. Yes, indeed, I fear no colours: change sides, Richard.
COOMES. Change the gallows! I'll see thee hang'd first.
NICH. Well, I see the fool will not leave his bable[405] for the Tower of London.
COOMES. Fool, ye rogue! nay, then, fall to it.
NICH. Good goose, bite not.
COOMES. 'Sblood, how pursy I am! Well, I see exercise is all: I must practice my weapons oft'ner; I must have a goal or two at foot-ball, before I come to my right kind [Aside]. Give me thy hand, Nicholas: thou art a better man than I took thee for, and yet thou art not so good a man as I.
NICH. You dwell by ill-neighbours, Richard; that makes ye praise yourself.
COOMES. Why, I hope thou wilt say I am a man?
NICH. Yes, I'll say so, if I should see ye hang'd.
COOMES. Hang'd, ye rogue! nay, then, have at ye.