FRYER.

I gave the leve to blowe at thy wyll,

Now give me leve to whistell my fyll.

ROBYN HODE.

Whystell, frere, evyll mote thou fare,

Untyll bothe thyne eyes stare.[337]

FRYER.

Now Cut and Bause !

Breng forth the clubbes and staves,

And downe with those ragged knaves !