Nay, by God, soft; I know a trick worth two of that, i' faith.

I think it be two o'clock.

God's body! the turkeys in my pannier are quite
starved. What, ostler! A plague on thee! hast thou
never an eye in thy head? canst not hear? An
'twere not as good deed as drink, to break the pate
on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be ...

What, ostler! come away and be hanged!

Like a tench! by the mass, there is ne'er a king
christen could be better bit than I have been since
the first cock.

Poor fellow, never joyed since the price of oats
rose; it was the death of him.

I prithee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks
in the point; poor jade, is wrung in the withers out
of all cess.

Heigh-ho! an it be not four by the day, I'll be
hanged: Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and
yet our horse not packed. What, ostler!