Wan. And why so bitter? Whose house is this? Who dares tell this story?
Capt. Why, sweet, hath he not treacherously broke into our cabinet, and would have stol'n thee thence? by these hilts, I'll hang him; and then I can conclude my ballad with take warning, all Christian people, by the same: I will, you lean slave; I'll prosecute thee, till thou art fain to hide in a servitor's gown again, and live upon crumbs with the robin redbreasts that haunt the hall (your old messmates). Do you snarl? I'll do't, I will, and put thee to fight with the dogs for the bones that but smell of meat—those that your hungry students have polished with their teeth.
Wan. If you do this, good captain, lieutenant, and company (for all your command, I think, is within your reach)—I say, if you dare do this, I shall sing a song of one that bad stand,[196] and made a carrier pay a dear rent for a little ground upon his majesty's highway.
Capt. How now, Mistress Wanton! what's this? what's this?
Par. This! 'tis matter for a jury; I'll swear, and positively. I'll hang thee, I'll do't, by this hand: let me alone to swear the jury out of doubt.
Capt. But you are in jest, Mistress Wanton, and will confess (I hope) this is no truth.
Wan. Yes, sir, as great a truth as that you are in your unpaid-for scarlet. Fool! didst think I'd quit such a friend and his staid fortune, to rely upon thy dead pay and hopes of a second covenant?
Capt. His fortune! what is't? th' advowson of Tyburn deanery?
Par. No, nor rents brought in by long staff-speeches, that ask alms with frowns, till thy looks and speech have laid violent hands upon men's charity.
Wan. Let him alone; I'll warrant, he'll never be indicted of drawing anything but his tongue against a man.