Good morrow, carriers. What’s o’clock?
I prithee, lend me thy lantern to see my
gelding in the stable.
I pray thee, lend me
thine.
Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to
come to London?
What ho, chamberlain!
That’s even as fair as “at hand, quoth the
Chamberlain,” for thou variest no more from
picking of purses than giving direction doth from
laboring: thou layest the plot how.
Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicholas’
clerks, I’ll give thee this neck.
What talkest thou to me of the hangman? If
I hang, I’ll make a fat pair of gallows, for if I hang,
old Sir John hangs with me, and thou knowest he is
no starveling. Tut, there are other Troyans that
thou dream’st not of, the which for sport sake are
content to do the profession some grace, that
would, if matters should be looked into, for their
own credit sake make all whole. I am joined with no
foot-land-rakers, no long-staff sixpenny strikers,
none of these mad mustachio purple-hued malt-worms,
but with nobility and tranquillity, burgomasters
and great oneyers, such as can hold in, such
as will strike sooner than speak, and speak sooner
than drink, and drink sooner than pray, and yet,
zounds, I lie, for they pray continually to their saint
the commonwealth, or rather not pray to her but
prey on her, for they ride up and down on her and
make her their boots.
She will, she will. Justice hath liquored her.
We steal as in a castle, cocksure. We have the
receipt of fern seed; we walk invisible.
Give me thy hand. Thou shalt have a share in
our purchase, as I am a true man.
Go to. Homo is a common name to all men.
Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the stable.
Farewell, you muddy knave.
Stand.
Case you, case you. On with your vizards.
There’s money of the King’s coming down the hill.
’Tis going to the King’s Exchequer.
There’s enough to make us all.
Some eight or ten.
Stand!