efore Don John came to be L. there, hoping also to be so, when
he and all his brood (my Lady his daughter and all) should be
gone. At the hearing of this speech, the wasp got my brother by
the nose, which made him in his rage to affirm, that he would be
L. of Fulham as long as he lived in despite of all England. Nay,
soft there, quoth M. Madox, except her Majesty. I pray you, that
is my meaning, call dumb John, and I tell thee Madox that thou
art but a Jack to use me so: Master Madox replying, said that
indeed his name was John, and if every John were a Jack, he was
content to be a Jack (there he hit my L. over the thumbs). The B.
growing in choler, said that Master Madox his name did shew what
he was, for saith he, thy name is mad ox, which declareth thee to
be an unruly and mad beast. M. Madox answered again, that the B.
name, if it were descanted upon, did most significantly shew his
qualities. For said he, you are called Elmar, but you may be
better called marelm, for you have marred all the elms in Fulham:
having cut them all down. This far is my worthy story, as worthy
to be printed, as any part of Dean John's book, I am sure."

* * * * *

"To the Father and the two Sons,
HUFF, RUFF, and SNUFF,[48]
the three tame ruffians of the Church, which take pepper
in the nose, because they cannot
mar Prelates:
greeting.

"Room for a royster; so that's well said. Ach, a little farther
for a good fellow. Now have at you all my gaffers of the railing
religion, 'tis I that must take you a peg lower. I am sure you
look for more work, you shall have wood enough to cleave, make
your tongue the wedge, and your head the beetle. I'll make such a
splinter run into your wits, as shall make them rankle till you
become fools. Nay, if you shoot books like fools' bolts, I'll be
so bold as to make your judgments quiver with my thunderbolts. If
you mean to gather clouds in the Commonwealth, to threaten
tempests, for your flakes of snow, we'll pay you with stones of
hail; if with an easterly wind you bring caterpillers into the
Church, with a northern wind we'll drive barrens into your wits.

"We care not for a Scottish mist, though it wet us to the skin,