Beuis. Thou hast hit it: for there's no better signe of a
braue minde, then a hard hand

Hol. I see them, I see them: There's Bests Sonne, the
Tanner of Wingham

Beuis. Hee shall haue the skinnes of our enemies, to
make Dogges Leather of

Hol. And Dicke the Butcher

Beuis. Then is sin strucke downe like an Oxe, and iniquities
throate cut like a Calfe

Hol. And Smith the Weauer

Beu. Argo, their thred of life is spun

Hol. Come, come, let's fall in with them.

Drumme. Enter Cade, Dicke Butcher, Smith the Weauer, and a
Sawyer, with
infinite numbers.

Cade. Wee Iohn Cade, so tearm'd of our supposed Father

But. Or rather of stealing a Cade of Herrings

Cade. For our enemies shall faile before vs, inspired