Thou stynkynge lorel! Whider wol the devel? Thou hast fartted in thine face! O nyce, proude cherl, I shrewe his face! Verily, in my eight and sixty feline years have; I not hearde ye fellow to this fartte! By Goddes bones, thou art a fustilugs! Garde thy tunge, or thou shalt heare a fardel-hyngere! Now void thy presence, thou scurvy knave!