An' then in half a zwath I'd mow thy lags off.
BOB.
Thee mow wi' me! Why coossen keep up wi' me:
Why bissèn fit to goo a-vield to skimmy,
Or mow down docks an' thistles! Why I'll bet
A shillèn, Samel, that thou cassen whet.
SAM.
Now don't thee zay much mwore than what'st a-zaid,
Or else I'll knock thee down, heels over head.