_Asi._ Content, I owe God a death, and if he will make mee |1610| pay’t against my will, Ile say tis hard dealing. _Exeunt._ _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. _Sir Ada._ But how? but how Capten? |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. |1635| _Sir Ada._ Excellent, why then M. Tucca---- _Tuc._ Nay, whir, nymble Prickshaft; whir, away, I goe vpon life and death, away, flie Scanderbag flie. _Exit._ _Enter_ Asinius Bubo, _and_ Horace _aloofe_. _Boy._ Arme Captaine, arme, arme, arme, the foe is come downe. |1640| Tucca _offers to shoote_. _Asi._ Hold Capten Tucca holde, I am Bubo, & come to answer any thing you can lay to my charge. _Tuc._ What, dost summon a parlie my little Drumsticke? tis too late; thou seest my red flag is hung out, Ile fill thy guts |1645| with thine owne carrion carcas, and then eate them vp in steed of Sawsages. _Asin._ Vse me how you will; I am resolute, for I ha made my Will. _Tuc._ Wilt fight Turke-a-ten-pence? wilt fight then? |1650| _Asini._ Thou shalt finde Ile fight in a Godly quarrell, if I be once fir’d. _Tuc._ Thou shalt not want fire, Ile ha thee burnt when thou wilt, my colde Cornelius: but come: _Respice funem_; looke, thou seest; open thy selfe my little Cutlers Shoppe, I challenge thee |1655| thou slender Gentleman, at foure sundrie weapons. _Asi._ Thy challenge was but at one, and Ile answere but one. _Boy._ Thou shalt answer two, for thou shalt answer me and my Capten.