Wo. Why, you are not mad, sir? I pray you look forth, and see the token I have brought you, sir.
To. Ha! what token is it?
Wo. Do you know it, sir?
To. My son Golding’s ring! Are you in earnest, Master Wolf? 41
Wo. Ay, by my faith, sir. He is in prison, and required me to use all speed and secrecy to you.
To. My cloak, there (pray you be patient). I am plagued for my austerity. My cloak! At whose suit, Master Wolf?
Wo. I’ll tell you as we go, sir.
[Exeunt.
[119] A powerful soporific.
[120] See Topsel’s History of Fourfooted Beasts, ed. 1658, p. 341.