JACK. Well, by mine honesty, I will mar your monkey’s[87] face, if you so fondly prate.
WILL. Jack, by my troth, seeing you are without the court-gate, If you play Jack-napes, in mocking my master and despising my face, Even here with a pantable[88] I will you disgrace; And though you have a far better face than I, Yet who is better man of us two these fists shall try, Unless you leave your taunting.
JACK. Thou began’st first; didst thou now not say even now, That Carisophus my master was no man but a cow, In taking so many blows, and gave[89] never a blow again?
WILL. I said so indeed, he is but a tame ruffian, That can swear by his flask and twich-box,[90] and God’s precious lady, And yet will be beaten with a faggot-stick. These barking whelps were never good biters, Ne yet great crakers were ever great fighters: But seeing you egg me so much, I will somewhat more recite; I say, Carisophus thy master is a flatt’ring parasite; Gleaning away the sweet from the worthy in all the court. What tragedy hath he moved of late? the devil take him! he doth much hurt.
JACK. I pray you, what is Aristippus thy master, is not he a parasite too, That with scoffing and jesting in the court makes so much a-do?
WILL. He is no parasite, but a pleasant gentleman full of courtesy. Thy master is a churlish lout, the heir of a dung-fork; as void of honesty As thou art of honour.
JACK. Nay, if you will needs be prating of my master still, In faith I must cool you, my friend, dapper Will: Take this at the beginning. [_Strikes him._
WILL. Praise well your winning, my pantable is as ready as yours.
JACK. Alas, pretty cockerel, you are too weak;
WILL. In faith, doating dottrel,[91] you will cry creak.
SNAP. Away, you crack-ropes, are you fighting at the court-gate? And I take you here again, I will swinge you both: what! [_Exit._
JACK. I beshrew Snap the tipstaff, that great knave’s heart, that hither did come, Had he not been, you had cried ere this, _Victus, victa, victum_: But seeing we have breathed ourselves, if ye list, Let us agree like friends, and shake each other by the fist.
WILL. Content am I, for I am not malicious; but on this condition, That you talk no more so broad of my master as here you have done. But who have we here? ’tis Coals I spy[92] coming yonder.