_Grac_. Nay, prethee raise no quarrels.

_Acut_. I can holde no longer: heare you, sir, are not you a foole? and
you an Asse? and you a knave?

_Phy_. Zoundes! an Asse?

_Scil_. A Foole?

_Ser_. A Knave, without respect?

_Acut_. I, for an Asse can beare, a Foole abide, and a Knave deserve.

_Omn_. Helpe, Helpe!

_Gra_. Prethee let's away.

_Acut_. Fooles often brings wise men to trouble,
Farewell, another time ile pay ye double.
[_Exit_.

_Enter Host, Hostesse, and Prentises_.

_Host_. Bring your Clubs out of doores. There goe in, my fine hostes,
Ile talke to the proudest; what, knaves are i'th streete, my dore is my
dore, my house is my castell, goe in dame _Helena_, let thine Host alon
with this; he that knocks at my hobby, while I have Ale in my house,
shall pay for a Surgeon: the honest shall come in, the knaves shall go
by; bring Clubs, I say.

_Scil_. Nay, sir, the heate is past, they that did it have tooke them to
their heeles, for indeed heere are of us--

_Host_. Away with your Clubs then; welcome, my brave Bullies, my Guests
shall take no wrong; but welcome, my Bullies.

_Scil_. Indeede sir, I am a man of few words, I have put up a little
bloodshed; marrie, I hope it shall be no stain to my manhoode, if I
keepe it out of my clothes.

_Host_. He shall pay for the blood-shed, my guestes shall take no wrong;
mine Host will spend his Cruse as franke as an Emperor; welcome, my
brave bullies.

_Ser_. Sir, be pacificall, the fellowe was possest with some critique
frenzie, and wee impute it to his madnes.

_Scil_. Madde! by Gods slid, if he were as madde as a weaver, I can
hardly put it up; for my blow, I care not so much, but he cald me foole;
slid, if I live till I dye, the one of us shall prove it.

_Host_. Some prophane Villaine, ile warrant him.

_Scil_. Doe you thinke I may not have an action against him?

_Host_. There's so many swaggerers; but alasse, how fel ye out?

_Scil_. By the welkin, I gave him not a foule word; first he calles me
foole, then he makes a full blowe at my body, and if, by good chance, I
had not warded it with my head, he might have spoild me.

_Enter Prentices_.

_Host_. There, there my fine fil-pots; give the word as you passe; anon,
anon, sir anon; heere and there in the twinckling, looke well at the
barre, there again my little Mercuries, froath them up to the brimme,
and fill as tis needeful; if their Pate