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 !