Thr. Tell me then.
Ha. When you were running away in a Fright, you fell down and hit it against a Stone.
Thr. Let me die if you han't hit the Nail on the Head.
Ha. Go, get you Home, and tell your Wife of your Exploits.
Thr. She'll read me a Juniper-Lecture for coming Home in such a Pickle.
Ha. But what Restitution will you make for what you have stolen?
Thr. That's made already.
Ha. To whom?
Thr. Why, to Whores, Sutlers, and Gamesters.
Ha. That's like a Soldier for all the World, it's but just that what's got over the Devil's Back should be spent under his Belly.