Lod. Is not Charles-wain there, tell me that, there?
Jac. Yes;
I have paid 'em truly: do not vex him Sirrah.
Piso. Confess it Boy, or as I live I'le beat
Mid-night into thy brains.
Boy. I do confess it.
Piso. Then live, and draw more small Beer presently.
Jac. Come Boyes, let's hug together, and be loving,
And sing, and do brave things cheerly my hearts,
A pox o' being sad; now could I fly
And turn the world about upon my finger,
Come ye shall love me, I am an honest fellow:
Hang care and fortune, we are friends.
Lod. No Captain.
Jac. Do not you love me? I love you two dearly.
Piso. No by no means; you are a fighting Captain,
And kill up such poor people as we are, by th' dozens.
Lod. As they kill flyes with Fox-tails, Captain.