Page:The two angry women of Abingdon (IA twoangrywomenofa00portrich).pdf/132

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angry women of Abington.
hower, but Ile watch her a good turne for it.

Coom. How, whose that Nicholas? so first come first serud,
I am for him: how now prouerbe, prouerbe, sbloud howe
now prouerbe?

Ni. My name is Nicholas, Richard: and I knowe your
meaning, and I hope ye meane no harme: I thanke ye I am
the better for your asking.

Coo. Where haue you been a whoring thus late, ha?

Ni. Master Richard the good wife would not seeke her
daughter in the Ouen vnlesse she had bin there her self, but
good Lord you are knuckle deep in durt, I warrant when
he was in, he swore Walsingham, & chaft terrible for the
time, looke the water drops from you as fast as hops.

Coom. What needst thou to care, whipper-Ienny, Tripecheekes,
out you fat asse.

Ni. Good words cost nought, ill wordes corrupts good
manners Richard, for a hasty man neuer wants woe, & I had
thought you had bin my friend, but I see al is not gold that
glisters, ther's falshood in fellowship, amicus certus in re certa
cernitur, time & truth tries all, & tis an olde prouerbe, &
not so old as true, bought wit is best, I can see day at a litle
hole, I know your minde as well as though I were within
you, tis ill halting before a criple, go to, you seek to quarrel
but be ware of had I wist: so long goes the pot to the water
at length it comes home broken, I know you are as good a
man as euer drew sword, or as was ere girt in a girdle, or as
ere went on Neats leather, or as one shil see vpō a summers
day, or as ere lookt man in the face, or as ere trode on gods
earth, or as ere broke bread, or drunk drinke: but he is proper
that hath proper conditions, but be not like the Cowe
that giues a good sope of milke and castes it downe with
her heeles. I speake plainly, for plaine dealing is a Iewel, &
he that vseth it shal dye a begger, well, that happens in an
houre, that happens not in seauen yeeres, a man is not so
soone whole as hurt & you should kill a man, you would
kisse his: well, I say little, but I thinke the more, yet Ile giue
him good words, tis good to hold a candle before the deuell,
yet by Gods me, Ile take no wrong, if he had a head as
big as Brasse, or lookt as high as Poules steeple.

Coo. Sirra, thou Grashoper, that shalt skip from my sword

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