o you uphold him?

_Hub._ No.

_Van._ Then hold me up. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Goswin, _and_ Hemskirk.

_Hem._ Sir, I presume, you have a sword of your own,
That can so handle anothers.

_Gos._ Faith you may Sir.

_Hem._ And ye have made me have so much better thoughts of you
As I am bound to call you forth.

_Gos._ For what Sir?

_Hem._ To the repairing of mine honour, and hurt here.

_Gos._ Express your way.

_Hem._ By fight, and speedily.

_Gos._ You have your will: Require you any more?

_Hem._ That you be secret: and come single.

_Gos._ I will.

_Hem._ As you are the Gentleman you would be thought.

_Gos._ Without the Conjuration: and I'le bring
Only my sword, which I will fit to yours,
I'le take his length within.

_Hem._ Your place now Sir?

_Gos._ By the Sand-hills.

_Hem._ Sir, nearer to the woods,
If you thought so, were fitter.

_Gos._ There, then.

_Hem._ Good.
Your time?

_Gos._ 'Twixt seven and eight.

_Hem._ You'l give me Sir
Cause to report you worthy of my Niece,
If you come, like your promise.

_Gos._ If I do not,
Let no man think to call me unworthy first,
I'le do't my self, and justly wish to want her.-- [_Exeunt._

_ACTUS TERTIUS. SCENA PRIMA._

_Enter three or four_ Boors.

_1 B._ Come, _English_ beer Hostess, _English_ beer by th' belly.

_2 B._ Stark beer boy, stout and strong beer: so, sit down Lads,
And drink me upsey-Dutch:
Frolick, and fear not.

_Enter_ Higgen _like a Sow-gelder, singing._

Hig. _Have ye any work for the Sow-gelder, hoa,
My horn goes too high too low, too high too low.
Have ye any Piggs, Calves, or Colts,
Have ye any Lambs in your holts
To cut for the Stone,
Here comes a cunning one.
Have ye any braches to spade,
Or e're a fair maid
That would be a Nun,
Come kiss me, 'tis done.
Hark how my merry horn doth blow,
Too high too low, too high too low._

_1 B._ O excellent! two-pence a piece boyes, two-pence a piece.
Give the boys some drink there. Piper, wet your whistle,
Canst tell me a way now, how to cut off my wifes Concupiscence?

_Hig._ I'le sing ye a Song for't.

_The_ SONG.

_Take her, and hug her,
And turn her and tug her,
And turn her again boy, again,
Then if she mumble,
Or if her tail tumble,
Kiss her amain hoy, amain.
Do thy endeavour,
To take off her feaver,
Then her disease no longer will raign.
If nothing will serve her,
Then thus to preserve her,
Swinge her amain boy amain.