Arth. [Aside] O gentle sophist! what a line is here; Lions tear wolves, wolves rend the stricken deer.
3rd Poach. Well, now, I thank thee, friend Gregory. Thou art a true man. I will so belabour and flay any of the cyder-blooded rascals, an thy bitch shall hold him; 'twill do a man good to hear of it.
1st Poach. I know the bitch. She'll kill them outright! These be right times. There be no inquests now, Master Gregory?
4th Poach. What's that to me more than you others? I did not murder him!
1st Poach. Who? The Puritan young gentleman whom Noll the brewer, that is general now, made such a stir about—
3rd Poach. As if plenty didn't die in these wars—
1st Poach. Or the girl, Gregory! eh? the girl by the well, with her finger cut, and her throat—
4th Poach. Damn thee, have done! She was dead, ere I found her, and I did but take—
1st Poach. The ring, thou wouldst say.
2nd and 3rd Poach. Come, confess now!