Guardian: Here, you're good at arithmetic, say
now your numbers.
1st Wrenboy: Twelve coppers make a shilling.
I never handled more than that.
Guardian: (Angrily.) Well, do as the lady said,
tell us something you do know.
2nd Wrenboy: (Standing up, excited.) I know
the way to make bird-lime, steeping willow rods in
the stream....
3rd Wrenboy: I know how to use my fists; I
knocked a tinker bigger than myself.
4th Wrenboy: I am the best at wrestling. I
knocked himself. (Pointing at 3rd.)
5th Wrenboy: I that can skin a fawn after
catching him running!
2nd Dowager Messenger. Where now did you get
that learning?
5th Wrenboy: Here and there, rambling the
woods, sleeping out at night. I would never
starve in any place where grass grows!
1st Dowager Messenger: This is worse than
neglect. The poor old Guardian the Queen put
her trust in must be in his dotage.