Rob. How now? what's the matter?
Clown. 'Twas well you came in good time.
Rob. Why, man?
Clown. I was going the wrong way.
Rob. But tell me one thing I apprehend not: why didst lay thy cap upon the sword's point?
Clown. Dost not thou know the reason of that? why, 'twas to save my belly: dost thou think I am so mad to cast myself away for e'er a woman of 'em all? I'll see 'em hanged first!
Rob. Come, Roger, will you go?
Clown. Well, since there is no remedy. O tears! be you my friend.
Rob. Nay, prythee, Roger, do not cry.
Clown. I cannot choose; nay, I will steep
Mine eyes in crying tears, and crying weep. [Exeunt.