Scratch my head, Peaseblossom. Monsieur Cobweb, good monsieur, get you your weapons in your hand and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle. And, good monsieur, bring me the honey bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, monsieur. And good monsieur, have a care the honey bag break not.
I would be loath to have you overflown with a honey bag, signor. Monsieur Cobweb, my good sir, get out your weapons and kill for me a red-tailed bumblebee that has landed on a thistle.
And, good sir, bring me its honey. Oh, and good sir, be careful not to break the honey-sac. Give me your neaf, Monsieur Mustardseed.
Pray you, leave your courtesy, good monsieur. Give me your fist, Sir Mustardseed. Please, no need to take off your hat and bow, good sir.
Nothing, good monsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch. And I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch. Nothing, good sir, except for you to help Sir Cobweb scratch my head. And I am such a sensitive ass that if my hair even tickles me even slightly, I have to scratch.
