_Dieu vous garde playsaunce!_ On seven or on mumchance, what yonkers dare avance B3,_v._ To play a groat or twain? Lo! here I have in store Two or three groats, and no more; I take great thought, therefore, For to keep it; it is much pain. I come now out of a place Where is a company of small grace: Thieves and whores that spends apace-- They were drunken all the sort. One of their purses I did aspy Out of his sleeve, where it did lie; And one winked on me with his eye: But there began the sport. There False Falsehood, and I, Crafty Wit Got the purse: lo! here I have it. I came my way and let him sit, Smoke and shitten arse together. And if that I had Ill-Will here, With this money we would make good cheer. Gentle brother Will! I pray thee, appear! For thou art in some corner.
_Ill-W._ [_from without._] I would come in, but I am afeard Lest that I be taken by the beard With some catchpoll; I have heard How thou hast stolen a purse.
_Wit._ Thou whoreson! art thou mad? come in, I say!
This is not the first hazard that I have scaped; If I make an hand to deck myself gay, What am I the worse?
_Ill-W._ From thy company I cannot abide; I must needs hold upon thy side: Ill-Will and Shrewd Wit, who can hide? B4,_r._ For they will be together.
_Wit._ Now welcome, Will! and what cheer? By God! I thought for thee a thousand year. Peace! for God's body! who cometh there? Hance Beerpot, a scon router!
[_Hance._] Gut, mynen scone rutters, by the moder Got! Ic heist nowne schon, for stave ye nete De qusteke man, iche bie do do? Van the groate bumbarde well ic wete Dartyck dowsant van enheb it mete Ic best de manikin van de keining dangliter De grot keyser kind ic bene his kusketer.
_Ill-W._ Hear ye not drunken Hance, how he begins to prate? The malapert Fleming is a little too checkmate.
_Wit._ Let the knave alone! for his name is War: Such drunken Flemings your company will mar.
_Hance._ Ic best nen einond; ic best in soche; Ye fecte nete vell; ic forstave ye in doche.
_Ill-W._ Com'st here leyt with your gound? stand near! It becomes you better to handle a pot of beer.
_Hance._ Dat maght ic veil dan, ic can skynke frelyck; Tab bers frew; ic bringes brore, begotts nemerick!
_Wit._ The whoreson knave, by the mass! is drunk A winking, for deep his eyen be clean sunk.