Alg. We leave you not an instant or an inch.
Ped. Were ever guards half so polite! Sure, I must be a holiday to be so strictly kept.
Alg. Hark! They are coming.
Enter Judge and Alguazils with Gil, a cloak thrown over him.
Judge. Where is the other prisoner?
Alg. Here, my lord.
Judge. March on with us.
Alg. 2. My lord, this man will faint with loss of blood and weariness.
Judge. Halt then, and let him breathe awhile.