The dull sides of a Beare I kickt.
I know how you rid, Lady Nan.

_Mrs. Gen._ Ha, ha, ha, upon the knave my man.

_Rob._ A murrein take you, I am sure my hoofes payd for't.

_Boy._ Meat lie there, for thou hast no taste, and drinke there, for
thou hast no relish, for in neither of them is there either salt or
savour.

_All._ Pull for the posset, pull.

_Robin._ The brides posset on my life, nay if they come to their
spoone meat once, I hope theil breake up their feast presently.

_Mrs. Gen._ So those that are our waiters nere,
Take hence this Wedding cheere.
We will be lively all,
And make this barn our hall.

_Gooddy Dick._ You our Familiers, come.
In speech let all be dumbe,
And to close up our Feast,
To welcome every gest
A merry round let's daunce.

_Meg._ Some Musicke then ith aire
Whilest thus by paire and paire,
We nimbly foot it; strike.

_Musick._

_Mal._ We are obeyd.

_Sprite._ And we hels ministers shall lend our aid.

_Dance and Song together. In the time of which the Boy speakes._

_Boy._ Now whilest they are in their jollitie, and do not mind me, ile
steale away, and shift for my selfe, though I lose my life for't.

_Exit._"

* * * * *

"_Dought._ He came to thee like a Boy thou sayest, about thine own
bignesse?

_Boy._ Yes Sir, and he asked me where I dwelt, and what my name was.

_Dough._ Ah Rogue!

_Boy._ But it was in a quarrelsome way; Whereupon I was as stout, and
ask'd him who made him an examiner?

_Dough._ Ah good Boy.

_Mil._ In that he was my Sonne.

_Boy._ He told me he would know or beat it out of me,
And I told him he should not, and bid him doe his worst;
And to't we went.

_Dough._ In that he was my sonne againe, ha boy; I see him at it now.

_Boy._ We fought a quarter of an houre, till his sharpe nailes made my
eares bleed.

_Dough._ O the grand Divell pare 'em.

_Boy._ I wondred to finde him so strong in my hands, seeming but of
mine owne age and bignesse, till I looking downe, perceived he had
clubb'd cloven feet like Oxe feet; but his face was as young as mine.

_Dought._ A pox, but by his feet, he may be the Club-footed
Horse-coursers father, for all his young lookes.

_Boy._ But I was afraid of his feet, and ran from him towards a light
that I saw, and when I came to it, it was one of the Witches in white
upon a Bridge, that scar'd me backe againe, and then met me the Boy
againe, and he strucke me and layd me