Gay. With all my heart, since ’tis your lordship’s will.
Wilf. That’s right! Put up! Come, friends!
[Wilford and Friends go out.]
Wal. I’ll follow him!
Why do you hold me? ’Tis not courteous of you!
Think’st thou I fear them? Fear! I rate them but
As dust! dross! offals! Let me at them!—Nay,
Call you this kind? then kindness know I not;
Nor do I thank you for’t! Let go, I say!
Clif. Nay, Master Walter, they’re not worth your wrath.
Wal. How know you me for Master Walter? By
My hunchback, eh!—my stilts of legs and arms,
The fashion more of ape’s than man’s? Aha!
So you have heard them, too—their savage gibes
As I pass on,—“There goes my lord!” aha!
God made me, sir, as well as them and you.
’Sdeath! I demand of you, unhand me, sir!
Clif. There, sir, you’re free to follow them! Go forth,
And I’ll go too: so on your wilfulness
Shall fall whate’er of evil may ensue.
Is’t fit you waste your choler on a burr?
The nothings of the town; whose sport it is
To break their villain jests on worthy men,
The graver still the fitter! Fie for shame!
Regard what such would say? So would not I,
No more than heed a cur.
Wal. You’re right, sir; right,
For twenty crowns! So there’s my rapier up!
You’ve done me a good turn against my will;
Which, like a wayward child, whose pet is off,
That made him restive under wholesome check,
I now right humbly own, and thank you for.
Clif. No thanks, good Master Walter, owe you me!
I’m glad to know you, sir.
Wal. I pray you, now,
How did you learn my name? Guessed I not right?
Was’t not my comely hunch that taught it you?