Page:Awful, desperate and bloody battle, for the breeches (1).pdf/2

 A Battle for the Breeches,

Peter.

ow now Dorothy, where have you been to day?

Dorothy. What's that to thee, thou bold fac'd cuckold rogue.

Peter. How now, Dorothy, what's the mater with you? What, are you drunk?

Dor. How drunk, Sirrah! give me ſuch another word, and I will make thy face ring againſt the wall, thou brazen fac'd raſcal; and as thou likes that ſlap on the chops, ſo prate to me the next time.

Peter. How now, Dorothy, what's the matter with you now? what! do you begin your old tricks again? truly Dame, I ſcorn to take it at your hands as I have done; come, take thou that, you drunken quean!

Dorothy. O, thou cowardly rogue, is this the manhood thou haſt gotten, to ſrike a woman that has nothing in her hand!

Peter. Come, come, Dorothy, that matter ſhall be amended; here, take thy rock: I an ſure thou haſt not uſed it this many a day except it was to break my head.

Dorothy. Come, you prating knave, are you preaching now? give me but hold of that ſtick, and I'll be thy clerk to say Amen to your Cuckold's cap by and by―take you that, ſirrah; ay, and that too, goodman raſcal, for eating my piece of cuſtard laſt night; I have not forgot it yet, I warrant thee.

Peter. No, thou brazen fac'd ſlut, nor have I forgotten ſince you came home drunk, and broke my