Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.
Enter a Carrier with a Lanterne in his hand.
1.Car. Heigh-ho, an't be not foure by the day, Ile be hang'd. Charles waine is ouer the new Chimney, and yet our horse not packt. What Ostler? Ost. Anon, anon
1.Car. I prethee Tom, beate Cuts Saddle, put a few Flockes in the point: the poore Iade is wrung in the withers, out of all cesse. Enter another Carrier.
2.Car. Pease and Beanes are as danke here as a Dog, and this is the next way to giue poore Iades the Bottes: This house is turned vpside downe since Robin the Ostler dyed
1.Car. Poore fellow neuer ioy'd since the price of oats rose, it was the death of him
2.Car. I thinke this is the most villanous house in al London rode for Fleas: I am stung like a Tench
1.Car. Like a Tench? There is ne're a King in Christendome, could be better bit, then I haue beene since the first Cocke
2.Car. Why, you will allow vs ne're a Iourden, and then we leake in your Chimney: and your Chamber-lye breeds Fleas like a Loach
1.Car. What Ostler, come away, and be hangd: come away
2.Car. I haue a Gammon of Bacon, and two razes of Ginger, to be deliuered as farre as Charing-crosse
1.Car. The Turkies in my Pannier are quite starued. What Ostler? A plague on thee, hast thou neuer an eye in thy head? Can'st not heare? And t'were not as good a deed as drinke, to break the pate of thee, I am a very Villaine. Come and be hang'd, hast no faith in thee? Enter Gads-hill.
Gad. Good-morrow Carriers. What's a clocke? Car. I thinke it be two a clocke
Gad. I prethee lend me thy Lanthorne to see my Gelding in the stable
1.Car. Nay soft I pray ye, I know a trick worth two of that
Gad. I prethee lend me thine
2.Car. I, when, canst tell? Lend mee thy Lanthorne (quoth-a) marry Ile see thee hang'd first
Gad. Sirra Carrier: What time do you mean to come to London? 2.Car. Time enough to goe to bed with a Candle, I warrant thee. Come neighbour Mugges, wee'll call vp the Gentlemen, they will along with company, for they haue great charge.
Gad. What ho, Chamberlaine? Cham. At hand quoth Pick-purse
Gad. That's euen as faire, as at hand quoth the Chamberlaine: For thou variest no more from picking of Purses, then giuing direction, doth from labouring. Thou lay'st the plot, how
Cham. Good morrow Master Gads-Hill, it holds currant that I told you yesternight. There's a Franklin in the wilde of Kent, hath brought three hundred Markes with him in Gold: I heard him tell it to one of his company last night at Supper; a kinde of Auditor, one that hath abundance of charge too (God knowes what) they are vp already, and call for Egges and Butter. They will away presently
Gad. Sirra, if they meete not with S[aint]. Nicholas Clarks, Ile giue thee this necke
Cham. No, Ile none of it: I prythee keep that for the Hangman, for I know thou worshipst S[aint]. Nicholas as truly as a man of falshood may
Gad. What talkest thou to me of the Hangman? If I hang, Ile make a fat payre of Gallowes. For, if I hang, old Sir Iohn hangs with mee, and thou know'st hee's no Starueling. Tut, there are other Troians that y dream'st not of, the which (for sport sake) are content to doe the Profession some grace; that would (if matters should bee look'd into) for their owne Credit sake, make all Whole. I am ioyned with no Foot-land-Rakers, No Long-staffe six-penny strikers, none of these mad Mustachio-purple-hu'd-Maltwormes, but with Nobility, and Tranquilitie; Bourgomasters, and great Oneyers, such as can holde in, such as will strike sooner then speake; and speake sooner then drinke, and drinke sooner then pray: and yet I lye, for they pray continually vnto their Saint the Commonwealth; or rather, not to pray to her, but prey on her: for they ride vp & downe on her, and make hir their Boots