OLIVER. And I do not meet him, chill give you leave to call me cut; where ist, sirrah, where ist? where ist?
FATHER.
The letter shows both the time and place,
And if you be a man, then keep your word.
LANCELOT.
Sir, he shall not keep his word, he shall not meet.
FATHER.
Why, let him choose, he’ll be the better known
For a base rascal, and reputed so.
OLIVER. Zirrah, zirrah: and tweare not an old fellow, and sent after an arrant, chid give thee something, but chud be no money: But hold thee, for I see thou art somewhat testorne; hold thee, there’s vorty shillings: bring thy master a veeld, chil give thee vorty more; look thou bring him: chil mall him, tell him, chill mar his dauncing tressels, chil use him, he was ne’er so used since his dam bound his head; chill make him for capyring any more, chy vor thee.
FATHER.
You seem a man, stout and resolute,
And I will so report, what ere befall.
LANCELOT.
And fall out ill, assure your master this,
I’ll make him fly the land, or use him worse.
FATHER.
My master, sir, deserves not this of you,
And that you’ll shortly find.
LANCELOT.
Thy master is an unthrift, you a knave,
And I’ll attach you first, next clap him up
Or have him bound unto his good behavior.
OLIVER. I would you were a sprite, if you do him any harm for this. And you do, chill ne’er see you, nor any of yours, while chill have eyes open: what, do you think, chil be abaffled up and down the town for a messell and a scoundrel? no, chy vor you: zirrah, chil come; zay no more, chil come, tell him.