Churchwa. Wiggen, I hope thou wilt do no more then thou darst aunswer.
Wig. Sir, sir, dare or dare not, more or lesse, aunswer or not 445 aunswer, do this, or have this.
Sex. Helpe, helpe, helpe![1084] Wiggen sets upon the parish with a pike staffe.
Eumenides awakes and comes to them.
Eum. Hould thy hands, good fellow.
Core. Can you blame him, sir, if he take Jacks part against this 450 shake-rotten parish that will not burie Jack.
Eum. Why, what was that Jack?
Coreb. Who Jack, sir, who our Jack, sir? as good a fellow as ever troade uppon neats leather.
Wiggen. Looke you, sir, he gave foure score and nineteene 455 mourning gownes to the parish when he died, and because he would not make them up a full hundred, they would not bury him; was not this good dealing?
Churchwar. Oh Lord, sir, how he lies; he was not worth a halfe-penny, and drunke out every penny: and nowe his fellowes, his 460 drunken companions, would have us to burie him at the[1085] charge of the parish. And we make many such matches, we may pull downe the steeple, sell the belles, and thatche the chauncell. He shall lie above ground till he daunce a galliard about the churchyard for Steeven Loache. 465