The lettin[g] of humours blood in the head-vaine with a new morissco, daunced by seauen satyres, vpon the bottome of Diog[e?]nes tubbe.

EPIG. 2. BOREAS.

HAng him base gull; Ile stabbe him by the Lord, If he presume to speake but halfe a word: ••e paunch the villaine with my Rapiers poynt, ••r heaw him with my Fauchion ioynt by ioynt. Through both his cheeks my Poniard he shal haue ••r Mince-pie-like Ile mangle out the slaue. ••ske who I am, you whorson frise-gowne patch? ••all me before the Counstable, or Watch? ••annot a Captaine walke the Queenes high-way? ••vones, who de speake to? know ye villains, ha? ••ou drunken pessants, run's your tongs on wheeles? ••ong you to see your guttes about your heeles▪ ••oest loue me Tym? let go my Rapier then, ••erswade me not from killing nine or ten: ••are no more to kill them in braueado, ••hen for to drinke a pipe of Trinedado. ••ly minde to patience neuer will restore-me, ••ntill their blood do gush in streames before-me, ••hus doth Sir Launcelot in his drunken stagger, ••••eare, curse & raile, threaten, protest, & swagger ••ut being next day to sober answere brought, ••e's not the man can breede so base a thought.