Bel. He's gone, he's gone, I warrant thee.
Fres. I would I were gone too. H's shook me almost into a dead palsy.
Bel. How fell the difference between you?
Fres. I would I were out at the back door.
Bel. Thou art safe enough. Prithee tell's the falling out.
Fres. Yes, sir, when I have recovered my spirits. My memory is almost frighted from me.—Oh, so, so, so!—Why, sir, as I came along the street, sir—this same gentleman came stumbling after me and trod o' my heel.—I cried O. Do you cry, sirrah? says he. Let me see your heel; if it be not hurt I'll make you cry for something. So he claps my head between his legs and pulls off my shoe. I having shifted no socks in a sen'night, the gentleman cried foh! and said my feet were base and cowardly feet, they stunk for fear. Then he knocked my shoe about my pate, and I cried O once more. In the meantime comes a shag-haired dog by, and rubs against his shins. The gentleman took the dog in shag-hair to be some watchman in a rug gown, and swore he would hang me up at the next door with my lanthorn in my hand, that passengers might see their way as they went, without rubbing against gentlemen's shins. So, for want of a cord, he took his own garters off, and as he was going to make a noose, I watched my time and ran away. And as I ran, indeed I bid him hang himself in his own garters. So he, in choler, pursued me hither, as you see.
Bel. Why, this savours of distraction.
Lev. Of mere distraction.
Fres. Howsover it savours, I am sure it smells like a lie. [Aside.
Bel. Thou may'st go forth at the back door, honest fellow; the way is private and safe.