Soto. And dost thou know that Silvio.
Sil. I never saw him, Sir.
Soto. I have, and know him too,
I know him as well as I know thee, and better,
And if I light upon him, for a trick he plaid me once,
A certain kind of dog-trick, I'll so fiddle him,
Two thousand Duckets, I'll so pepper him,
And with that money I'll turn Gentleman,
Worth a brown Baker's dozen of such Silvios.
Sil. There is no staying here, this rogue will know me,
And for the money sake betray me too;
I must bethink me suddenly and safely.
Enter Morris-dancers.
Soto. Mine own dear Lady, have-at-thy honey-comb,
Now, for the honor of our Town, Boyes, trace sweetly.
[Cry within of, Arm, Arm.
Wh[at] a vengeance ails this whobub: pox refuse 'em,
Cannot they let us dance in our own defence here?
Enter Farmer and Captain.