[Enter Tyb.]
Tyb. Why, whom wylt thou beate, I say, thou knave?
Johan. Who, I, Tyb? none, so God me save.
Tyb. Yes, I harde the say thou woldest one bete.
Johan. Mary, wyfe, it was stokfysshe[251] in Temmes Strete,
Whiche wyll be good meate agaynst Lent. A ii b 115
Why, Tyb, what haddest thou thought that I had ment?
Tyb. Mary, me thought I harde the bawlyng.
Wilt thou never leve this wawlyng?[252]
Howe the dyvell dost thou thy selfe behave?