pash

Thou want’st a rough pash and the shoots that I
have
To be full like me ; yet they say we are
Almost as like as eggs . Women say so ,
That will say anything . But were they false
As o’erdyed blacks , as wind , as waters , false
As dice are to be wished by one that fixes
No bourn ’twixt his and mine , yet were it true
To say this boy were like me . Come , sir page ,
Look on me with your welkin eye . Sweet villain ,
Most dear’st , my collop ! Can thy dam ? — may ’t
be ? —
Affection , thy intention stabs the center .
Thou dost make possible things not so held ,
Communicat’st with dreams — how can this be ?
With what’s unreal thou coactive art ,
And fellow’st nothing . Then ’tis very credent
Thou may’st co-join with something ; and thou dost ,
And that beyond commission , and I find it ,
And that to the infection of my brains
And hard’ning of my brows .

If I go to him , with my armèd fist
I’ll pash him o’er the face .