3910'I am their errand: I must bid adieu
To lovely Maudge, mine hostess, and to you.'
'Ho!' quoth mine host, and rubbed his gummy eyes,
'What says my son? Must thou be whirled away?
I warrant, boy, my club shall still their cries,
When 'bout their costards I shall make it play.
I'll dye their stark-nak'd crowns with their own blood,
Then let 'em come if that they think it good.'
'Good Sickerlin,' says Maudge, 'ere they shall have
My honey-sweeten Dick, I'll scratch and bite,