Cost. Wauns! I wish again that my wife lay there.
Kite. Say you so! then I find, brother——
Cost. Brother! hold there friend; I am no kindred to you that I know of yet.—Lookye, serjeant, no coaxing, no wheedling, d'ye see—If I have a mind to list, why so—if not, why 'tis not so—therefore take your cap and your brothership back again, for I am not disposed at this present writing.—No coaxing, no brothering me, 'faith.
Kite. I coax! I wheedle! I'm above it, sir: I have served twenty campaigns——but, sir, you talk well, and I must own that you are a man, every inch of you; a pretty, young, sprightly fellow!—I love a fellow with a spirit; but I scorn to coax; 'tis base; though I must say, that never in my life have I seen a man better built. How firm and strong he treads! he steps like a castle! but I scorn to wheedle any man—Come, honest lad! will you take share of a pot?
Cost. Nay, for that matter, I'll spend my penny with the best he that wears a head, that is, begging your pardon, sir, and in a fair way.
Kite. Give me your hand then; and now, gentlemen, I have no more to say but this—here's a purse of gold, and there is a tub of humming ale at my quarters—'tis the king's money, and the king's drink—he's a generous king, and loves his subjects—I hope, gentlemen, you won't refuse the king's health.
All Mob. No, no, no.
Kite. Huzza, then! huzza for the king, and the honour of Shropshire.
All Mob. Huzza!
Kite. Beat drum.