Arm. Mistress, let me have some sport too.
Who's there?
Ant. Let me come in.
Arm. Soft, soft, sir; y' are too hasty.
Ant. Quickly, or else——
Arm. Good words, good words, I pray, sir,
In strangers' houses! were the doors your own,
You might be bolder.
Ant. I'll beat the doors and windows
About your ears.
Arm. Are you so hot? We'll cool you.
Since your late drowning, your grey and reverend head
Is smear'd with ooze, and stuck with cockle-shells:
This is to wash it.
[Throws water on him.
Ant. Impudent whore!
Arm. Out, carter:
Hence, dirty whipstock,[328] hence,
You foul clown; begone, or all the water
I can make or borrow shall once more drown you.