[Then the Fool, kneeling down, with the swords round his neck, says
Now, Gentlemen, you see how ungratefull my Children is grown; when I had them all at Home, small, about as big as I am, I put them out to good learning, I put them to Coxcomb Colledge, and then to the University of Loggerheads, and I took them Home again this good time of Christmas, and I examin'd them all one by one altogether for shortness, and now they are grown so proud and so presumptions they are a-going to kill their old Father for his little means; so I must dye for all this.
Pickle Herring. You must dye, Father.
Fool. And I will die for all the tother; but I have a little something, I will give it amongst you as far as it goes, and then I shall dye quietly.
Pickle Herring. I hope you will.
Fool. So to my first Son Pickle Herring, I'll give him the roaned Nag, and that will make the Rogue brag, And to my second Son, I'll give him the brindled Cow; And to my Third Son, I'll give him the sanded Sow, and hope I shall please you all enow; And to my fourth Son, I'll give him the great ruff Dog, for he always lives like a Hog; And to my Fifth Son, I'll give him the Ram, and I'll dye like a Lamb.
[Then they draw their Swords, and the Fool falls on the floor, and the Dancers walk once round the Fool, and Pickle Herring stamps with his foot, and the Fool rises on his knees again, and Pickle Herring says
How now, Father?
Fool. How now, then. Boy, I have another squeak for my life.
Pickle Herring. You have a many.
[Then the Dancers, puting their Swords round the Fool's neck again,
Fool. So I must dye.
Pickle Herring. You must dye, Father.
