[Enter POACHERS, L.U.E.]
3rd Poach. 'Tis like it was the tooth of a dog-bramble.
2nd Poach. Well, well; it is the nature of man to hunt forbidden deer.
Arth. [Aside] And to carve his name on benches.
2nd Poach. And while game be preserved, there will be the likes of we.
3rd Poach. Right too. But it is a mortal sin to make us men into dog's-meat, and to hunt us with foreign bloodhound varmint. Hast heard, friend Gregory, who stole my apples?
4th Poach. Not I!
3rd Poach. Would I could catch the thieving rascals! Look ye, the tree is mine, and it does but hang over the road a scantling; and, as sure as nights are dark, comes me some ragged pilferers, that have not to pay an honest drunkenness, and basely steal my apples.
Arth. [Aside] Oh, most benighted conscience of the villains!
4th Poach. Shall I lend thee my bull-bitch to watch thy tree? She hath a real gripe for a rascally thin leg. Your orphan, your cast-away, hath no chance with her, I warrant. A rare bitch!