Tro. It is justice Overdo’s warrant that I look for; if you have not that, keep your word, I’ll keep mine. Quit ye, and multiply ye.
Enter EDGWORTH and NIGHTINGALE.
Edg. Come away, Nightingale, I pray thee.
Tro. Whither go you? where’s your warrant?
Edg. Warrant! for what, sir?
Tro. For what you go about, you know how fit it is; an you have no warrant, bless you, I’ll pray for you, that’s all I can do.
[Exit.
Edg. What means he?
Night. A madman that haunts the Fair; do you not know him? It’s marvel he has not more followers after his ragged heels.
Edg. Beshrew him, he startled me: I thought he had known of our plot. Guilt’s a terrible thing. Have you prepared the costard-monger?