_Sir Vau._ Peter Salamander, tye vp your great and your little sword, by Sesu Ile goe sing him while tis hot. Ile beate fiue pound out of his leather pilch: Master Horace, let your wittes inhabite in your right places; if I fall hansomely vpon the Widdow, |1585| I haue some cossens Garman at Court, shall beget you the reuersion of the Master of the Kings Reuels, or else be his Lord of Mis-rule nowe at Christmas: Come Ladyes, whoreson Stragling Captaine, Ile pound him.
|1590| _Hor._ How now? what ail’st thou, that thou look’st so pale.
_Asin._ Nay nothing, but I am afraide the Welsh Knight has giuen me nothing but purging Comfits: this Captaine stickes pockily in my stomack; read this scroule, he saies they’r rimes, and bid me giue them you.
|1595| _Hor._ Rimes? tis a challenge sent to you.
_Hor._ He saies heere you divulg’d my Epigrams.
_Asin._ And for that dares he challenge me?
_Hor._ You see he dares, but dare you answer him?
|1600| _Asin._ I dare answer his challenge, by word of mouth, or by writing, but I scorne to meete him, I hope he and I are not Paralels.
_Hor._ Deere Bubo, thou shalt answere him; our credites Lye pawn’d vpon thy resolution, |1605| Thy vallor must redeeme them; charge thy spirits, To waite more close, and neere thee: if he kill thee, Ile not suruiue; into one Lottery We’ll cast our fates; together liue and dye.
_Asi._ Content, I owe God a death, and if he will make mee |1610| pay’t against my will, Ile say tis hard dealing.
_Enter_ Sir Adam, Tucca, _with two pistols by his sides, his boy laden with swords and bucklers._
_Tuc._ Did Apolloes Freeze gowne watchman (boy, dost heare Turkie-cockes tayle, haue an eye behinde, least the enemie assault |1615| our Rere-ward) on proceede Father Adam; did that same tiranicall-tongu’d rag-a-muffin Horace, turne bald-pates out so naked?
_Sir Ad._ He did, and whipt them so with nettles, that The Widdow swore that a bare-headed man, |1620| Should not man her: the Ladie Petula Was there, heard all, and tolde me this.
_Tuc._ Goe too. Thy golde was accepted, it was, and she shall bring thee into her Paradice, she shall small Adam, she shall.
|1625| _Tuc._ Thus, goe, couer a table with sweet meates, let all the Gentlewomen, and that same Pasquils-mad-cap (mother Bee there) nibble, bid them bite: they will come to gobble downe Plummes; then take vp that paire of Basket hiltes, with my commission, I meane Crispinus and Fannius; charge one of |1630| them to take vp the Bucklers, against that hayre-monger Horace, and haue a bout or two, in defence of balde-pates: let them cracke euerie crowne that has haire on’t: goe, let them lift vp baldenes to the skie, and thou shalt see, twill turne Miniuers heart quite against the haire.