[Exeunt.
Coc. (within). Wa, ha, ho!
Enter Mulligrub.
Mul. It was his voice, ’tis he: he sups with his cupping-glasses. ’Tis late; he must pass this way: I’ll ha’ him—I’ll ha’ my fine boy, my worshipful Cocledemoy; I’ll moy him; he shall be hang’d in lousy linen; I’ll hire some sectary to make him an heretic before he die; and when he is dead I’ll piss on his grave. 15
Enter Cocledemoy.
Coc. Ah, my fine punks, good night, Frank Frailty, Frail o’ Frail-hall! Bonus noches, my ubiquitari.
Mul. Ware polling and shaving, sir.
Coc. A wolf, a wolf, a wolf!
[Exit Cocledemoy, leaving his cloak behind him.
Mul. Here’s something yet, a cloak, a cloak! Yet I’ll after; he cannot ’scape the watch; I’ll hang him if I have any mercy. I’ll slice him.