But I will be revenged. I'll hang myself.
Then tremble all who did this match persuade,
For, riding on a cat, from high I'll fall,[100]
And squirt down royal vengeance on you all.
Food. Her majesty the queen is in a passion.[101]
King. Be she, or be she not, I'll to the girl[102]
And pave thy way, O Thumb. Now by ourself,
We were indeed a pretty king of clouts
To truckle to her will—for when by force
Or art the wife her husband overreaches,