Page 1742 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

To have this young one made a Christian.
As I have made ye one, lords, one remain;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain. [215]
Exeunt

Scene III IT

Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man

PORTER
You’ll leave your noise anon, ye rascals. Do you take the court for Paris
Garden? Ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.

[ONE] WITHIN
Good master porter, I belong to th’larder.

PORTER

Belong to th’gallows, and be hanged, ye rogue! [5] Is this a place to roar in?
Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones: these are but switches
to ’em. I’ll scratch your heads. You must be seeing christenings? Do you look
for ale and cakes here, you rude rascals?

MAN

Pray, sir, be patient. ’Tis as much impossible, [10]
Unless we sweep ’em from the door with cannons,
To scatter ’em as ’tis to make ’em sleep
On May-day morning; which will never be.
We may as well push against Paul’s as stir ’em.

PORTER

How got they in, and be hanged? [15]

MAN

Alas, I know not. How gets the tide in?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot −
You see the poor remainder − could distribute,

I made no spare, sir.