_Sir Adam._ Heer’s a purse of golde, thinke you that wil be accepted?
_Tuc._ Goe to, it shall bee accepted, and twere but siluer, when that Flea-bitten Short-hose steppes hence: vanish too, and let |1170| mee alone with my Grannam in Gutter-Lane there, and this purse of golde doe, let me alone.
_Sir quint._ The King, gods Lord, I doe forget the King; Widdow, thinke on my wordes, I must be gone To waite his rising, Ile returne anone.
|1175| _Sir Ad._ Stay Sir Quintilian, Ile be a waiter too.
_Sir quinti._ Widdow wee’ll trust that Captaine there with you.
_Tuc._ Now, now, mother Bunch how dost thou? what dost frowne Queene Gwyniuer? dost wrinckle? what made these paire |1180| of Shittle-cockes heere? what doe they fumble for? Ile ha none of these Kites fluttering about thy carkas, for thou shalt bee my West Indyes, and none but trim Tucca shall discouer thee.
_Min._ Discouer me? discouer what thou canst of me.
_Tuc._ What I can? thou knowst what I can discouer, but I will |1185| not lay thee open to the world.
_Tuc._ No I will not my moldie decay’d Charing-crosse, I will not.
_Mi._ Hang thee patch-pannell, I am none a thy Charing-crosse: I scorne to be Crosse to such a scab as thou makst thy selfe.
|1190| _Tuc._ No, tis thou makst me so, my Long Meg a Westminster, thou breedst a scab, thou--
_Min._ I? dam thee filthie Captaine, dam thy selfe.
_Tuc._ My little deuill a Dow-gate, Ile dam thee, (thou knowst my meaning) Ile dam thee vp; my wide mouth at Bishops-gate.
|1195| _Min._ Wod I might once come to that damming.
_Tuc._ Why thou shalt, my sweet dame Annis a cleere thou shalt, for Ile drowne my selfe in thee; I, for thy loue, Ile sinke, I, for thee.
_Min._ So thou wilt I warrant, in thy abhominable sinnes; Lord, |1200| Lord, howe many filthy wordes hast thou to answere for.
_Tuc._ Name one Madge-owlet, name one, Ile answer for none; my words shall be foorth comming at all times, & shall answer for them selues; my nimble Cat-a-mountaine: they shall Sislie Bum-trincket, for Ile giue thee none but Suger-candie wordes, I |1205| will not Pusse: goody Tripe-wife, I will not.
_Min._ Why dost call mee such horrible vngodlie names then?
_Tuc._ Ile name thee no more Mother Red-cap vpon paine of death, if thou wilt Grimalkin, Maggot-a-pye I will not.