Cla. Let me see thy thighs, and belly,
As whole as a fish for any thing I see yet:
Thou bleed'st no where.
Soto. I think I do not bleed, Sir,
But yet I am afraid I am slain.
Cla. Stand up fool,
Thou hast as much hurt as my nail; who shot thee,
A Pottle, or a Pint?
Soto. Signior Silvio shot me
In these clothes; taking me for you, and seeing
The Ladder in my hand here, which I stole from ye,
Thinking to have gone to the Lady my self, and have spoke for ye.
Cla. If he had hit ye home, he had serv'd ye right sirrah,
You saucy rogue, how poor my intent shews to me,
How naked now, and foolish!
Soto. Are ye sure he has not hit me,
It gave a monstrous bounce?
Cla. You rose o' your right side,
And said your prayers too, you had been payed else:
But what need'st thou a Bullet, when thy fear kills thee?
Sirrah, keep your own counsel for all this, you'll be hang'd else,
If it be known.
Soto. If it be by my means, let me;
I am glad I am not kill'd, and far more gladder
My Gentleman-like humor's out: I feel 'tis dangerous,
And to be a gentleman, is to be kill'd twice a week.
Cla. Keep your self close i'th' Countrey for a while sirrah.
There's Money, walk to your friends.
Soto. They have no Pistols,
Nor are no Gentlemen, that's my comfort. [Exit.