Phil. What are ye sure?
Theo. That 'tis no boy: I'll burn in't.
Phil. Now I consider better, and take council,
Methinks he shows more sweetness in that face,
Than his fears dare deliver.
Theo. No more talk on't,
There hangs some great weight by it: soon at night
I'll tell ye more.
Phil. Come Sir, what e'r you are
With us, embrace your liberty, and our helps
In any need you have.
Leo. All my poor service
Shall be at your command Sir, and my prayers.
Phil. Let's walk apace; hunger will cut their throats else.
[Exeunt.
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Rodorigo, Mark-antonio, and a Ship-master, two Chairs set out.