Theo. Alas poor men.
Phil. Mine Host, pray go untie 'em.
Die. Let me alone for cancelling: where are they?
Bayl. In every bush, like black birds, you cannot miss 'em.
Die. I need not stalk unto 'em. [Exit.
Bayl. No, they'l stand ye,
My busie life for yours Sir: you would wonder
To see the several tricks and strange behaviours
Of the poor rascals in their miseries,
One weeps, another laughs at him for weeping,
A third is monstrous angry, he can laugh
And cries, go too, this is no time; he laughs still,
A fourth exhorts to patience: him a fifth man
Curses for tameness; him a Fryer schools,
All hoot the Fryer, here one sings a Ballad,
And there a little Curate confutes him,
And in this linsey-woolsey way, that would make a dog
Forget his dinner, or an old man fire,
They rub out for their ransoms: Amongst the rest,
There is a little boy rob'd, a fine child,
It seems a Page: I must confess my pitty
(As 'tis a hard thing in a man of my place)
To shew compassion, stirr'd at him, so finely
And without noise he carries his afflictions,
And looks as if he had but dreamt of losing.
Enter Host and Leocadia, and others as rob'd.
This boy's the glory of this robbery,
The rest but shame the action: now ye may hear 'em.
Host. Come lads, 'tis Holy-day: hang cloaths, 'tis hot,
And sweating Agues are abroad.
1. It seems so;
For we have met with rare Physitians
To cure us of that malady.