To some near funeral of state.—Nay, weep not,
Mine own sweet uncle; you will kill me sooner.
Car. Oh, my poor chicken!
Hengo. Fie, faint-hearted uncle!
Come, tie me in your belt, and let me down.
Car. I'll go myself, boy.
Hengo. No, as you love me, uncle;
I will not eat it, if I do not fetch it;
The danger only I desire: pray tie me.
Car. I will, and all my care hang o'er thee! Come, child,