Envy. A, sir, evil mote thou speed,
That so can read his destiny!
Mis. Will ye suffer this knave in your company?
Then God be with you! I will forsake you.
Pros. Go hence! or in faith I shall make you!
Peace. Then to almighty God I betake you.
Envy. Let me come to that bragger!
I shall thrust him through the arse with my dagger.
[And here they face Peace out of the place.
How say ye? was not this a good face,
To drive a knave out of the place?
Mis. In faith, thou made him run apace!
Thou looked as thou had been mad.
Pros. Now, by my troth! my heart is glad;
Some minstrel now I would we had,
To revel and dance; for, by saint Chad!
I am so light methink I flee!
Envy. Yea, marry! so should it be;
For now I hold you wise.