Car. Of Bels Boy? 'tis thy fancie,
Alas, thy bodies full of wind.
Hen. Methinks, Sir,
They ring a strange sad knell, a preparation
To some near funeral of State: nay, weep not,
Mine own sweet Uncle, you will kill me sooner.
Car. Oh my poor chicken.
Hen. Fie, faint-hearted Uncle:
Come, tie me in your Belt, and let me down.
Car. I'll go my self Boy.
Hengo. No, as ye love me, Uncle;
I will not eat it, if I do not fetch it;
The danger only I desire: pray tie me.
Car. I will, and all my care hang o'r thee: come child,
My valiant child.
Hen. Let me down apace, Uncle,
And ye shall see how like a Daw I'll whip it
From all their policies: for 'tis most certain
A Roman train: and ye must hold me sure too,
You'll spoil all else. When I have brought it Uncle,
We'll be as merry—
Car. Go i'th' name of heaven, Boy.
Hen. Quick, quick, Uncle, I have it. Oh.