Fal. downe? Ile not beare mine owne flesh so far afoot again,
Fal. for all the coine in thy Fathers Exchequer. What a plague
Fal. Garters: If I be tane, Ile peach for this: and I haue not
Fal. Ballads made on all, snd sung to filthy tunes, let a Cup of
Fal. Sacke be my poyson: when a iest is so forward, & a foote