_ Often, often.
_Hig._ There's the point then,
They have cast themselves, Brother _Prig_.
_Prig._ A shrewd point, Brother.
_Hig._ Brother, proceed you now; the cause is open,
I am some what weary.
_Prig._ Can you do these things?
You most abhominable stinking Rascals,
You turnip-eating Rogues.
_Boors._ We are truly sorry.
_Prig._ Knock at your hard hearts Rogues, and presently
Give us a sign you feel compunction,
Every man up with's cudgel, and on his neighbour
Bestow such alms, 'till we shall say sufficient,
For there your sentence lyes without partiality;
Either of head, or hide Rogues, without sparing,
Or we shall take the pains to beat you dead else:
You shall know your doom.
_Hig._ One, two, and three about it.
_Prig._ That fellow in the blue, has true Compunction,
[_Beat one another._
He beats his fellows bravely, oh, well struck boyes.
_Enter_ Gerrard.
_Hig._ Up with that blue breech, now playes he the Devil.
So get ye home, drink small beer, and be honest;
Call in the Gentleman.
_Ger._ Do, bring him presently,
His cause I'le hear my self.
_Enter_ Hemskirk.
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