Wag. Alas, poor slave! See how poverty jesteth in his nakedness! The villain is bare and out of service, and so hungry that I know he would give his soul to the devil for a shoulder of mutton, though it were blood-raw.
Clown. How? My soul to the Devil for a shoulder of mutton, though ’twere blood-raw! Not so, good friend. By’r Lady, I had need have it well roasted and good sauce to it, if I pay so dear.
Wag. Well, wilt thou serve me, and I’ll make thee go like Qui mihi discipulus?3
Clown. How, how, Knave’s acre!5 Ay, I thought that was all the land his father left him. Do you hear? I would be sorry to rob you of your living.
Wag. Sirrah, I say in stavesacre.
Clown. Oho! Oho! Stavesacre! Why, then, belike if I were your man I should be full of vermin.
Wag. So thou shalt, whether thou beest with me or no. But, sirrah, leave your jesting, and bind yourself presently unto me for seven years, or I’ll turn all the lice about thee into familiars, and they shall tear thee in pieces.
Clown. Do your hear, sir? You may save that labour; they are too familiar with me already. Swowns! they are as bold with my flesh as if they had paid for [their] meat and drink.
Wag. Well, I will cause two devils presently to fetch thee away—Baliol and Belcher.
Clown. Let your Baliol and your Belcher come here, and I’ll knock them, they were never so knock’d since they were devils. Say I should kill one of them, what would folks say? “Do you see yonder tall fellow in the round slop6 —he has kill’d the devil.” So I should be called Kill-devil all the parish over.
Enter two Devils: the Clown runs up and down crying
Wag. Baliol and Belcher! Spirits, away! Exeunt Devils.
Clown. What, are they gone? A vengeance on them, they have vile long nails! There was a he-devil, and a she-devil! I’ll tell you how you shall know them: all he-devils has horns, and all she-devils has clifts and cloven feet.
Clown. But, do you hear—if I should serve you, would you teach me to raise up Banios and Belcheos?
Wag. I will teach thee to turn thyself to anything; to a dog, or a cat, or a mouse, or a rat, or anything.
Clown. How! a Christian fellow to a dog or a cat, a mouse or a rat! No, no, sir. If you turn me into anything, let it be in the likeness of a little pretty frisky flea, that I may be here and there and everywhere. Oh, I’ll tickle the pretty wenches’ plackets; I’ll be amongst them, i’ faith.
Clown. O Lord! I pray, sir, let Banio and Belcher go sleep. Wag. Villain—call me Master Wagner, and let thy left eye be diametarily7 fixed upon my right heel, with quasi vestigias nostras insistere.8Exit.
Clown. God forgive me, he speaks Dutch fustian. Well, I’ll follow him, I’ll serve him, that’s flat. Exit.
