Bast. Heare the Cryer

Aust. What the deuill art thou?
Bast. One that wil play the deuill sir with you,
And a may catch your hide and you alone:
You are the Hare of whom the Prouerb goes
Whose valour plucks dead Lyons by the beard;
Ile smoake your skin-coat and I catch you right,
Sirra looke too't, yfaith I will, yfaith

Blan. O well did he become that Lyons robe,
That did disrobe the Lion of that robe

Bast. It lies as sightly on the backe of him
As great Alcides shooes vpon an Asse:
But Asse, Ile take that burthen from your backe,
Or lay on that shall make your shoulders cracke

Aust. What cracker is this same that deafes our eares
With this abundance of superfluous breath?
King Lewis, determine what we shall doe strait

Lew. Women & fooles, breake off your conference.
King Iohn, this is the very summe of all:
England and Ireland, Angiers, Toraine, Maine,
In right of Arthur doe I claime of thee:
Wilt thou resigne them, and lay downe thy Armes?
Iohn. My life as soone: I doe defie thee France,
Arthur of Britaine, yeeld thee to my hand,