_Grac_. Nay, prethee raise no quarrels.
_Acut_. I can holde no longer: heare you, sir, are not you a foole? and
you an Asse? and you a knave?
_Phy_. Zoundes! an Asse?
_Scil_. A Foole?
_Ser_. A Knave, without respect?
_Acut_. I, for an Asse can beare, a Foole abide, and a Knave deserve.
_Omn_. Helpe, Helpe!
_Gra_. Prethee let's away.
_Acut_. Fooles often brings wise men to trouble,
Farewell, another time ile pay ye double.
[_Exit_.
_Enter Host, Hostesse, and Prentises_.
_Host_. Bring your Clubs out of doores. There goe in, my fine hostes,
Ile talke to the proudest; what, knaves are i'th streete, my dore is my
dore, my house is my castell, goe in dame _Helena_, let thine Host alon
with this; he that knocks at my hobby, while I have Ale in my house,
shall pay for a Surgeon: the honest shall come in, the knaves shall go
by; bring Clubs, I say.
_Scil_. Nay, sir, the heate is past, they that did it have tooke them to
their heeles, for indeed heere are of us--
_Host_. Away with your Clubs then; welcome, my brave Bullies, my Guests
shall take no wrong; but welcome, my Bullies.
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