Flu. Much goot do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, ’pray you, throw none away; the skin is goot for your proken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you, mock at them; that is all.
Pist. Good.
Flu. Ay, leeks is goot:—Hold you, there is a groat to heal your pate.
Pist. Me a groat!
Flu. Yes, verily and in truth, you shall take it; or I have another leek in my pocket, which you shall eat.
Pist. I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.
Flu. If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in cudgels. Heaven be wi’ you, and keep you, and heal your pate.
Exit L.H.
Pist. crosses to L.H. All hell shall stir for this.
Crosses to R.H.