I’ll do it, I’m resolved. So everybody keep where they belong, and don’t anyone bring his business into this street! I tell you what, my fist is a siege-gun, and this forearm is my catapult, and my shoulder is a battering ram, yes, and every man I lay my knee into will bite the earth. I’ll make every man I meet a tooth-collector. _Hegio_ Quae illaec eminatiost nam? nequeo mirari satis. (_aside_) What on earth does all this bluster mean? Quite unaccountable! _Erg_ Faciam ut huius diei locique meique semper meminerit.[20] 800 I’ll make him remember this day and this place and me for ever. _Hegio_ Quid hic homo tantum incipissit facere cum tantis minis? (802) (_aside_) What giant undertaking is the fellow at, with all this big talk? _Erg._ Prius edico, ne quis propter culpam capiatur suam: continete vos domi, prohibete a vobis vim meam. I give you due notice, that no one may come to grief through his own ignorance of the law: stay at home: keep away from me--I am a violent man. _Hegio_ Mira edepol sunt, ni hic in ventrem sumpsit confidentiam. vae misero illi, cuius cibo iste factust imperiosior. (_aside_) Bless my soul! I’ll be sworn he’s got some assurance put into his inside. Heaven help the poor wretch whose larder has set him up so! _Erg._ Tum pistores scrofipasci, qui alunt furfuribus sues, quarum odore praeterire nemo pistrinum potest: eorum si quoiusquam scrofam in publico conspexero, ex ipsis dominis meis pugnis exculcabo furfures. 810 And as for the millers that keep sows, and feed waste stuff to their swine, that raise such a stench nobody can go by the mill,--if I spy a sow of any one of ’em on the public highway, I’ll up with my fists and stamp the stuffing out of those sows’--owners. _Hegio_ Basilicas edictiones atque imperiosas habet: satur homost, habet profecto in ventre confidentiam. (_aside_) Right royal and imperious pronunciamentos. The man is gorged: he certainly has got some assurance stowed away inside. _Erg._ Tum piscatores, qui praebent populo pisces foetidos, qui advehuntur quadrupedanti crucianti cantherio, quorum odos subbasilicanos omnes abigit in forum, eis ego ora verberabo surpiculis piscariis, ut sciant, alieno naso quam exhibeant molestiam. Then the fishmongers that travel around on a jogging, jolting gelding, and offer folk stale fish so strong it drives every last lounger in the arcade out into the forum-- I’ll whack their faces with their own fish baskets, just to teach ’em what an abomination they are to the public nose.