she presently bid them to stand.
O this &c
Deliver your Money (quoth she)
or else your manhoods now try,
Or by this same thing in my hand,
every man of you shall dye;
Then out her Black-Pudding she pull'd,
which sore did the Taylors affright,
They thought it had been a Pistol well charg'd,
because 'twas late in the night.