COOMES. Nay, there's ne'er a why but there is a wherefore; I have
known some have done the like, and they have danc'd a galliard at
beggars'-bush[340] for it.

BOY. At beggars'-bush! Hear him no more, master; he doth bedaub ye with
his dirty speech. Do ye hear, sir? how far stands beggars'-bush from
your father's house, sir? Why, thou whoreson refuge[341] of a tailor,
that wert 'prentice to a tailor half an age, and because, if thou hadst
served ten ages thou wouldst prove but a botcher, thou leapst from the
shop-board to a blue coat, doth it become thee to use thy terms so?
well, thou degree above a hackney, and ten degrees under a page, sew up
your lubber lips, or 'tis not your sword and buckler shall keep my
poniard from your breast.

COOMES. Do ye hear, sir? this is your boy.

FRAN. How then?

COOMES. You must breech him for it.

FRAN. Must I? how, if I will not?

COOMES. Why, then, 'tis a fine world, when boys keep boys, and know not
how to use them.

FRAN. Boy, ye rascal!

MRS GOUR. Strike him, and thou darest.

COOMES. Strike me? alas, he were better strike his father! Sowns, go to,
put up your bodkin.[342]

FRAN. Mother, stand by; I'll teach that rascal--

COOMES. Go to, give me good words, or, by God's dines,[343] I'll buckle
ye for all your bird-spit.

FRAN. Will you so, sir?

PHIL. Stay, Frank, this pitch of frenzy will defile thee;
Meddle not with it: thy unreproved valour
Should be high-minded; couch it not so low.
Dost hear me? take occasion to slip hence,
But secretly, let not thy mother see thee:
At the back-side there is a coney-green;[344]
Stay there for me, and Mall and I will come to thee. [_Aside_.]

FRAN. Enough, I will [_Aside_.] Mother, you do me wrong
To be so peremptory in your command,
And see that rascal to abuse me so.

COOMES. Rascal! take that and take all! Do ye hear, sir? I do not mean
to pocket up this wrong.

Boy. I know why that is.

COOMES. Why?

Boy. Because you have ne'er a pocket.

COM. A whip, sirrah, a whip! But, sir, provide your tools against
to-morrow morning; 'tis somewhat dark now, indeed: you know Dawson's
close, between the hedge and the pond; 'tis good even ground; I'll meet
you there; and I do not, call me cut;[345] and you be a man, show
yourself a man; we'll have a bout or two; and so we'll part for that
present.

FRAN. Well, sir, well.

NICH. Boy, have they appointed to fight?

BOY. Ay, Nicholas; wilt not thou go see the fray?